On the Other Side of the Pillow
by mykonosparadise
Summary: Prussia is ashamed of his feelings for Germany and hides them. He doesn't know that Germany is trapped in an even worse snare. He remains clueless about Germany's nightly visits to his bedroom and his being molested at night. SEQUEL ADDED!
1. Chapter 1

**Character(s):**young!Germany, Prussia, Austria

**Pairing(s):** Germany/Prussia  
><strong><br>****Summary: **Prussia is ashamed of his feelings for Germany and hides them. He doesn't know that Germany is trapped in an even worse snare. He remains clueless about Germany's nightly visits to his bedroom, and that he is being molested. (_story taking place before the Austro-Prussian War_)

**A/N:** This part somewhat resembles a prologue, even though it's classified as the first chapter. Also, it contains a headcanon of mine about nations changing their appearance, which is encouraged by Italy's transformation in episode 48. In other words, I always thought that the nations don't grow like humans, but rather have physical transformations which are quite painful. Don't judge me ;_;

**- On the Other Side of the Pillow -**

"Prussia, Sir?"

Visibly dissatisfied, the addressed nation turned away from his interlocutor to face the sudden intruder.

"What?" He snapped.

"It's Germany, Sir."

* * *

><p>The urgent tone erased every trace of annoyance from Prussia's features.<p>

There were many people inside; too many.

Prussia made his way through the mass of people jammed in the stuffy room. Even after he managed to go inside people kept pouring in, and he was squeezed by so many bodies while he threaded his way through the crowd of humans eager to witness the transformation. Some were Austrians, some Prussians, there was quite a number of foreigners too.

Roderich already stood near the hidden bed. Gilbert noticed him from the corner of his eye.

"Prussia." The brunette addressed him, but he didn't answer at first. He didn't have time for a conversation. He still needed to see Ludwig.

"Prussia, listen to me. Ludwig is—"

"I know." He cut off briskly. "It was about time."

There was a small moan that came from the bed in front of them.

In the sea of whispers and murmurs he heard it. He would recognize that voice anywhere, anytime. His brother, his little Ludwig, hidden behind the heavy folds of the bed curtain, helpless on the mattress.

He pushed it aside in haste and found a doctor, two assistants, and the one he was looking for. His actions unleashed a series of complaints and shrill protests from the medical assistants, yet the doctor himself merely spared him a glance and drew a long breath, nonchalantly knocking the ashes out of his tobacco pipe into a big glass ashtray on the table beside the bed. The man puffed out and the mist of tobacco smoke haloed around his head before he spoke.

"The change is not done yet. Leave him time." He said very calmly, smoking his pipe.

One of the assistants ripped the curtain away from his grasp, closing it around the bed anew, and Gilbert felt thankful. He forgot about the crowd outside.

"… _Gilbert_…" The child below managed through pants, impatient to get attention he had all along.

The older nation fell to his knees.

He himself had experienced this several times in his life. He knew full well through what kind of agonies the child nation was going through in this very moment.

"He was very quiet. A true fighter." The doctor commented and a faint smile appeared on Gilbert's lips.

"Acting all brave, are you?" He whispered to the still little nation but a pained expression flashed on Ludwig's adorable features and he immediately regretted the teasing.

He took the tiny hand into his and brushed the blond strands away from his damp forehead. Eyes with the color of bluest skies watched him, desperately searching for encouragement as another wave of pain struck, torturing him. His jaw tightened under Gilbert's comforting fingers and he bit back a moan, his entire body tensed. Ludwig's small hand was clutching onto Gilbert's now, trying to relieve some of the throbbing ache, even if only emotionally.

It ended as quickly as it started, leaving the blond panting again while his body tried to relax.

"Is it… always like this…?" Ludwig queried and Gilbert could only nod in return. "It hurts…" Ludwig added in a small voice, his courage faltering as he felt a new wave of pain he wasn't ready for.

The child's heart-shattering cry resounded through the bedroom and scarlet eyes shut as Gilbert found himself unable to watch the blond suffer. If there were only a way—If he could only—

Another hideous scream followed, small fingers were crushing Gilbert's and he squeezed back, wishing that he could switch places with Ludwig or do anything to end his agony and relieve his pain.

The young nation gasped for breath, feverish, forehead and temples damp with sweat while he appreciated the short break.

"It's begun." The man across him announced, but Gilbert barely heard him. Someone nudged him and he stood up, completely numb as he let go of Ludwig just before the child gave another piercing cry. Ludwig's sweat was still on his fingers when he clasped his hands and started praying in a helpless try to alleviate his suffering. Ludwig's cries frightened him dreadfully.

Before he knew what was happening, someone pushed him away brashly and thrust him aside, away from the bed and Ludwig. He stumbled backwards until he wasn't able to see anything, staring simply at the maroon curtain fluttering gently inches away from his face. Roderich appeared next to him.

"He will be alright." The Austrian assured.

Of course he would, Gilbert knew that. But he wasn't alright _now_.

There was another shrilling sound, the last one before they were engulfed by silence. Gilbert found himself sincerely and deeply affected by it, the piercing cries still echoed in his head, but he hid a shiver quite successfully. He wanted to bury his face into his palms in either relief or frustration, but he knew he was being watched, it was wrong time for showing weakness.

The doctor's unexpected exclamation awakened him, rousing him from the stunned condition he was in. He listened how the assistants called for the people to open the windows and let fresh air inside. Gilbert turned to shout at the crowd to make some space, and a number of people spilled out into the hall, obliging his commands.

With distress marring his features, Gilbert slipped inside rashly, annoyed at waiting to see what has happened.

Once he was beside the bed again, he stood like thunderstruck, as if he has seen a ghost, not believing his own eyes.

Was this the same nation he saw just few minutes ago?

Was this the baby boy, swaddled in linen, sleeping sweetly in his arms? The little nation that won Prussia's heart when he first clasped his pale fingers in his tiny hands? The boy plucking at his sleeve in a fruitless effort to prevent him from going to battles…?

While these memories were rolling in his mind, he perceived that someone was looking at him from behind, but he only vaguely took notice of how Austria joined him to see what was worth observing so long.

He looked at Prussia first, observing how a strange luster appeared in scarlet eyes before he followed his gaze.

Ludwig appeared to be about 16 or 17 of human age, but he turned out to be quite a beauty. His loose shirt was now clinging to his exhausted body, chest heaving as both stared at him. Gilbert's eyes trailed over the smooth white skin, not yet marred by scars, longer strands of blond hair falling over his forehead and closed eyes, light flush on his comely face, trailed over the delicate wings of his nose, parted wet lips, at the creamy whiteness of his throat when he moved his head in a light slumber.

He was very handsome, tall and well-shaped, with strong and beautiful limbs, even though his features appeared to have preserved some of that childlike innocence and softness.

Gilbert's feelings were at clash. He wished to show him to the whole world, yet hide him from everyone at the same time. His heart was so full, he couldn't say anything. Roderich's penetrating gaze soon put his beating heart to rest and he remembered where he was, swallowing thickly.

The Austrian made a shrewd guess of what has befallen the other nation. He thought that Gilbert was perhaps attracted to the younger German and that he fell prey to his beauty. Suddenly, Gilbert's face fell and he adopted a despondent expression − Roderich suspected that he regretted the failure to do something about it more than the feeling itself.

The Prussian spun around wildly and left the room in haste, eager to get away as soon as possible. Roderich connived at Prussia's escape because he felt sorry for him. He always knew the Prussian had a weakness for Ludwig.

The young nation fell asleep, and didn't wake until far in the night.

* * *

><p>"How are you feeling?"<p>

Ludwig didn't open his eyes right away.

When he did, the blank look on his face stunned Austria.

"I've seen better days." Ludwig answered with a sigh. Roderich nodded slowly and folded his hands in his lap while he sat straight in a chair beside the huge bed. Ludwig didn't seem very willing to have a conversation, but he didn't blame him. After all, it wasn't him who Ludwig wanted to see.

"Uncle Roderich?" Ludwig brought him out of his daze. He stopped inspecting his brown deerskin gloves and looked up at him. "Please tell me your candid opinion. Am I so exceedingly ugly that Gilbert is disappointed with me?" What took Roderich by surprise weren't his words, but the fact that he talked very gravely, as if irredeemably convinced it was the truth.

"Of course not. Nonsense—"

"Then why hasn't he come yet to see me? Why is he avoiding me?" Ludwig forgot his manners and cut him off, but the Austrian could clearly see that he was in a peevish temper, and therefore forgave him quickly.

"He's been too busy, I'm afraid." He offered.

"So busy that he couldn't find at least few minutes to see me?" Ludwig gloomily remarked. Fury at the rejection welled up in him. However, he became aware of his tone, and turned to the older nation.

"Forgive me, I was speaking in anger." He apologized.

Roderich offered a small smile in return, feeling guilty himself for lying to the blond.

"Ludwig, he won't be coming." He stated succinctly. "But I could ask him to come if it pleases you."

Ludwig shook his head. "Let him do what he likes. I'm past caring." He lied. Roderich's words have affected him deeply.

"If you wish so." The Austrian stood up, "I will detain you no longer." He was on his way out when Ludwig's voice made him stop in his tracks.

"Tell him he is a miserable coward." Ludwig requested, "Please tell him that."

When he left the room, Gilbert was already waiting outside. The Prussian acknowledged him with a nod and Roderich took few steps closer.

"How is he?" Gilbert inquired right away.

"He is well enough."

Gilbert nodded and gave a short hum in return. "Did he say anything?"

Roderich sighed and adjusted his glasses."He instructed me to tell you that you are a miserable coward." He stressed the last few words, closely watching his reaction.

Gilbert lifted his eyebrows slightly, and gave a short laugh devoid of amusement.

"And what do you say?" He asked at last.

Roderich was sorely tempted to say "I share his sentiments.", but restrained himself.

"I think that you are trapped in a terrible plight."

Aside from nodding, Gilbert couldn't offer anything else, and finding himself at a great loss of words, he walked off in silence.

**_To Be Continued…_**

**A/N: The fic is taking place during the time of Schleswig-Holstein dispute. Explained in 'Hetalia style', the following happened:**

Since the late 15th century, Schleswig-Holstein (currently a German state, but duchies in 1864) had been controlled by Denmark. However, in 1863 Denmark annexed Schleswig-Holstein.

This was a violation of international law, and angered both Prussia and Austria. Prussia turned to Austria and asked for Austrian-Prussian cooperation. Austria was sufficiently impressed by his arguments, so together they demanded that Denmark restore the status quo. When Denmark refused, Austrian-Prussian forces occupied Holstein, then invaded Schleswig.

**It's important to understand why I chose exactly this period of history. I thought it was probable that Prussia and Austria lived together during this period (Germany with them too), and I needed such scenario for the story. In which palace they live exactly I leave for you readers to decide.**

**Comments and thoughts would be lovely *3***


	2. Chapter 2

**Character(s):**teen!Germany, Prussia, Austria

**Pairing(s):**Germany/Prussia

**Warnings:** sex; use of sedatives  
><strong><br>****  
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**A/N: The chronological sequence may confuse some readers, but everything is done intentionally. How it came to all this you are about to read will be explained in the future chapter(s). **

**I want to drop a little comment before you proceed with reading. A human OC (original character) will appear briefly in this chapter, and I beg of you to be patient with me. I didn't use an OC because I didn't have anything else to write about, but because (with all needed respect) Germany couldn't have pulled this off alone. As I said, the OC will be present only in this chapter, and I guarantee that no other humans will appear in future updates. **

**- Chapter 2 -**

"What a terrible noise they make in the mornings. I thought I told them to leave the horses further away. Such impudence…" Roderich grumbled in dissatisfaction.

"Could you cut your story short, by any chance? I'm already lost waiting for your point."

Ludwig glanced up from his book to look at the two nations sitting on an elegant, octagonal rosewood table, both entirely engrossed in the card game they were playing. The whole palace knew they were at a constant variance, and their arguments—ranging from these little argues to heated exchanges—were the most natural occurrence.

"Very amusing, Gilbert." The Austrian gave him a look. "I meant that we should tighten our reigns on those coachmen, or they will continue to do as they please."

"That was enlightening. Now pass me the deck, it's my turn to deal." Gilbert gathered all cards in a single pack and began shuffling. "I hear nothing. Not at night, not in the morning. I have no inkling of what you're talking about." He put his elbow on the table, and offered Roderich to cut the deck.

"Nothing can wake _you _up. You sleep like a log." The brunette commented.

Still comfortably seated in his arm-chair, Ludwig lifted the book to hide his face. He smiled with an air of coy secrecy, knowing full well why Gilbert wasn't tired as he or Roderich. The Prussian has had a restful night full of sleep; it wasn't a mystery he looked so refreshed.

When the two Germans began to play a new round, Ludwig found that he was more engaged in watching Gilbert than in reading, so he ended up laying the book aside. After all his exertions last night, he felt he deserved a rest. He let his body sink further into the inviting cushions, smiling vacantly at nothing in particular, indulging in an idle state of reverie. The Prussian across the room looked very becoming this morning. He always did.

Fatigued by Gilbert's lack of compassion, Roderich changed the topic.

"Have you heard about that scandal from yesterday? It's hard to imagine − that our personnel is supposed to be _stealing_." He said, clearly appalled at the current events.

"It still puzzles me, what on _earth_ would a maid do with sedatives?" Gilbert agreed with him for once.

Ludwig blanched at the mention of sedatives.

He thought his heart died within him for a moment. Terror and fright overwhelmed his mind, his pulse raised as he stared at them. He sat straight up and clenched his trembling fingers in fists, stiffly clutching at his breeches. Upon clearing his throat weakly, he spoke.

"Forgive my intrusion, but permit me to ask what you will do about it?" He demanded clarification.

Both turned to look at him, but Gilbert spoke first.

"I think it should be expunged. The palace doesn't even need so many drugs." He observed calmly.

"My opinion falls in with yours." Roderich agreed, unconsciously tearing at Ludwig's heart further. "It's about the principle. We should not allow the servants to steal from the palace kitchen supply."

Ludwig listened to their perfect indifference, barely knowing what to say to avoid drawing attention to his discontented mien.

"But what about emergency preparedness? What if someone suffers an injury? Surely, the hunting season will begin soon, it's good to have bromide reserves in—"

"If an emergency happens, we will have someone go to the city to bring the needed medicine." Gilbert retorted impatiently, a dark scowl present on his face while he studied his cards.

Ludwig felt uncomfortably conspicuous, since he was the only one who didn't oppose the sedative provisions.

Gilbert eyed him warily for a moment, agog to the new twist in Ludwig's demeanor. "Tell me, why do you take these trivial matters so personally?" He added, relenting a little.

"Forgive me," Ludwig kept his head down as not to argue with his brother in front of Roderich. "You know better than I do."

The Prussian watched him with renewed interest for some time before laughingly dismissing the whole affair and changing the subject.

"Would you like to go out for a walk later?" He asked the younger German.

"It's drizzly today, I don't fancy going out this evening." Ludwig replied quietly, trying to look composed and unconcerned.

"May I be excused?" He requested after a minute, keeping his eyes glued to the parquet.

"I'd rather you stay with us, but if you wish." Gilbert paused in hope for an answer, but Ludwig merely gave a nod and left the salon, hurrying to consult a certain person.

* * *

><p>"Young Master." The kitchen chamberlain bowed after she arrived at the meeting place, but Ludwig shook his head quickly.<p>

"Raise, Madam, no need for such formality."

The German lady was a motherly person in her middle ages, gray-haired, with oval features which seemed to convey her pleasant, friendly character. She was still good-looking, irrespective of age. Ludwig knew she must have had a reputation as a great beauty during her younger age.

"Have you heard the news?" Ludwig questioned right away, and she could already sense the bitterness of his spirit. "Not the stealing, of course, but that they will confiscate all sedatives."

"They already did."

To Ludwig, who hoped to secure more supplies for himself, this information was devastating. Now he couldn't even save the sedatives that were left. He came to search for bromide that was still unspoiled, but found only failure instead. The lady caught his attention when she handed him a small bottle, carefully packed in a wad of soft material.

"It isn't much, but it's everything I was able to save for you."

He cradled the sedative and held it against his chest, endlessly grateful to the chamberlain for her efforts.

"But for your assistance, I'd be helpless. I shall see to it that you are properly rewarded for your services to me." Ludwig assured. The drug was more worth than gold to him. The small amount he had in that bottle was enough to induce deep sleep within a relatively short amount of time.

"Your trust is reward enough, young Master." The lady cupped his cheek in her gloved hand protectively, fine wrinkles around her eyes became more visible when her lips formed a smile. "I am glad to see that your spirits haven't been destroyed." She encouraged.

Ludwig watched this refined woman, reminding himself that this was the only lady on earth who knew that his bed stood idle during some nights. It was only after a long discussion that he was sure in her loyalty. She was now the only human he trusted with his secret, and the one from whom he had got the full account about this drug. It was a substance that became a popular sedative and was widely prescribed − a sedative harmless for a nation, and therefore safe to use on Gilbert.

"Thank you." Ludwig almost whispered. He never expected a human to develop such kind of affection for him. She withdrew her hand, and for a moment he found himself longing for the motherly touch.

"Please remind your maids about my presence in Prussia's room tonight. I will brook no interference in this matter."

She made a gesture of obeisance, and departed soon thereafter.

* * *

><p>Ludwig rushed to his bedroom with the intent to stow his goods in his hiding-place, and save them for future use.<p>

Rarely have his prospects seemed so bad. His short childhood was devoid of calamities, but now he seemed to be exposed to so many unforeseen changes, it appeared almost unreal. The sudden turn of events made him firmly believe that some extraordinary power decided to punish him for all his actions.

The Fortune trampled on him more than once, but he wasn't sure if he could survive this blow.

Ludwig has always been very careful as to not excite speculation and expose himself to public ridicule. But above everything, he was terrified by the idea of Gilbert finding out about his nightly visits.

The blond unlocked the bottom drawer of his desk and pulled a delicately carved hardwood chest out. He lifted the lid to reveal his treasure. Underneath the tray was a secret compartment, hiding a tiny bottle half-filled with sedative, and an oval glass jar containing lubricant. He has used his last full bottle of bromide last night. How could he have known that the lack of sedatives in the palace would be discovered?

Desperate, he buried his face into his palms in a moment of misery and despair, finally admitting to himself to having started a fire he didn't know how to fight.

He spread his fingers apart to eye the new bottle quickly, and found himself agitated by the sense of loss. The decision he made defied all logic, but didn't put him off from going into Gilbert's bedroom tonight.

* * *

><p>"You will not mind my disturbing you, I hope." Ludwig said as he peered from the hall, already knowing the answer. He didn't have to fear Gilbert viewing his motives with suspicion.<p>

Smiling brightly, Gilbert bade him enter. He chose to postpone his duties for tomorrow. A cup of strong tea, a generous fire and Ludwig's presence formed a harmony which made him forget his work.

"You always bring me the tea. I should have you employed as my personal butler." The jocose Prussian teased, watching the younger nation stroll towards him.

"All empty promises." Ludwig jested in return when he stopped beside the seated nation and left the hot drink upon his desk. "I know uncle Roderich said your joke will bear repeating, but it doesn't get better with time." He pushed the porcelain saucer and the matching cup in front of the Prussian, causing him to remove the letters he has been writing in order to make some free space. "It's just as you like it, brother. Hot and without sugar." Ludwig added.

Gilbert beckoned him closer, and with a look of mild puzzlement, Ludwig leaned down, expecting the Prussian to whisper something into his ear. This thought confused him even further, since they were alone in the bedroom and Gilbert was safe to voice his thoughts out loud.

Instead of a whisper, he received a kiss on the cheek.

Gilbert has always been terribly fond of him. Apart from the short week following his body transformation—a period during which Gilbert had avoided him like the plague—he has never denied him affection. Ludwig's heart warmed at the gesture, but he had limited control over his erections, for he was young, and the slightest stimulus caused by the Prussian fired his imagination.

He flinched backwards and straightened his body again; the kiss has caught him unaware.

"It's late, I should be returning to my room." He smothered the sudden arousal behind his words.

"I don't mind. Stay a little longer. I _insist_." Gilbert stressed, stifling the burning disappointment in his chest, but oblivious to the real motives of Ludwig's withdrawal.

The younger German sank into the opposite seat, and watched his brother sip on the drink.

"You've been to the city last week. Tell me, how are the people?" Ludwig inquired while he relished in the feeling of having Gilbert all to himself.

The Prussian pondered for a moment. "Not good." He said and put the cup down. "But I'm not afraid, it will get much worse."

Ludwig frowned at his strange sense of humor. "I thought you strive to make their life better."

"That is exactly what we try to do." Gilbert affirmed, but didn't go into details. Ludwig wondered if the sedative has already started to work as he watched his brother's attractive features basking in the mellow light of the candles.

"I would do anything for my people. I'm ready to die for them, if necessary." The younger nation added in a somewhat quieter voice.

"There is something more you can do. _Live _for them." They shared a long look before the Prussian lifted his teacup and drank up in gusto.

"May I trouble you to pass me that book?" Gilbert pointed at the bookcase behind Ludwig, and the younger blond immediately rose to follow his request. "The only one on the top shelf."

Gilbert followed him with a longing gaze the entire time, but this escaped Ludwig's notice.

After he handed his brother the desired item, he returned to find a book for his own enjoyment. With his back turned to the older nation, Ludwig spoke.

"Brother, do I please you?" He questioned with so much affection, it made the Prussian's heart melt with love.

"Yes. Your presence is very agreeable." He answered. Ludwig's words stirred up feelings in him that he has been trying to suppress for months; quite unsuccessfully. He let his gaze dwell on Ludwig with that same longing, scarlet eyes roaming all over his figure. But as soon as he recognized desire and glimmering hope rising within him, he averted his eyes to open the book, flipping through the volume before he stopped at a random page.

In all his solitary life, he has never felt such a deep yearning for another nation. His feelings ranged from gentle affection to an earnest wish to tame the blond and have him only for himself. But Ludwig's words from back then were not far from truth − he was a coward. A coward at the thought of failure and at being rejected by the nation he called his brother, his family. And thus he continued to be obstinately deaf to all subtleties and hints, causing despair to both him and Ludwig.

He continued to consult his book in silence, unaware of Ludwig's analytical gaze on him.

Gilbert was valiant and upright. He was an honorable nation. But his weakness was that he trusted his brother too much. An innocent-eyed look could easily deceive a nation of many winters as Prussia was. Therefore Ludwig could rest assured that no suspicion could alight on him.

He watched as Gilbert's body relaxed visibly after a short time, his body resting in a comfortable position while satisfaction came over him in waves. He knew Gilbert was about to fall asleep, it was only a matter of minutes.

The Prussian gave a yawn, his eyelids drooping with weariness as he looked across the table at the blond with a half-smile on his lips. "Alas, I feel a bit sleepy. Perhaps you would want to go back to your room now?"

Ludwig nodded and returned the book he picked up earlier. Gilbert saw him to the door, and there they parted.

* * *

><p>Ludwig never imagined he would stoop so low.<p>

He knew that he had made a deep error by starting all this, but it seemed almost impossible to stop now. He was a prisoner, confined behind the bars of his own carnal desire, with no hope of redemption.

The clocks were striking twelve when he found himself in front of Gilbert's bedroom once again. The sedative ought to have taken effect by now. He entered quietly, and locked the door.

Guided by the gleam of moonshine that shone faintly through the windows, he glided between the table and the four-poster bed smoothly. While he ambled along the room, his heart rate and the grip on his small jar increased. Before sitting on the bed, he noticed that the fire burned down to embers. As he watched the glowing remains of the dying fire, he felt the reproach of his own conscience, but he banished the thoughts from his mind as soon as they had arisen.

He looked over at the sleeping nation, and the sight confused whatever rational thoughts he might have had until this point.

Ludwig was deeply ashamed at his deeds, but he had little scruple in his mind once he saw Gilbert lying on a bed. What in fact had led him and gave him courage enough to do this remained a complete mystery even to him.

He stepped closer, blue eyes sparkling with anticipation. The sound of his own beating heart boomed through his ears when he sat beside the Prussian. His eagerness made him senseless of danger. After nine months of routine, he became so naturalized to this practice that he didn't fear anymore. Yet simple acts like kissing Gilbert or placing his palms against his chest were still sufficient to make him aroused.

He removed all his clothes but his shirt, and straddled the Prussian carefully. Leaning flat on his palms, he bent down, and pressed a light kiss on a smooth, white brow, and repeated the same on the pointed tip of Gilbert's straight nose. An uncontrollable smile broke out on Ludwig's lips when he traveled over the frills running down the center of Gilbert's shirt. He unbuttoned it slowly and opened it wide, brazenly displaying a tremendous stretch of bare skin, fingers brushing over the beautiful muscular chest.

Skillful hands moved across the alabaster skin, over the body he knew by heart, over each curve and each ridge, kissing the scars he could reach, remainders of so many battles. He usually began with sucking and nipping at his nipples, working on one while fingers glided to the other one over the light covering of soft hair on his chest, drawing small circles around it. He lavished them with attention until they finally became erect, and he smiled in happiness when this happened, giving another peck before moving lower like a virtuoso.

Gilbert pelvic muscles were a work of art. Ludwig felt an impulsive tingle of jealousy as he traced the indention on each side of his lower stomach, but the envious reaction was quickly replaced by lust. He undid his brother's breeches, and pulled them down enough to reveal his flaccid member. Even though Ludwig has never had a chance to try it, he imagined that it was easier to suck cock while a man was already hard. He usually spent quite some time on getting Gilbert hard, but a thought of giving up has never crossed his mind.

He curled his fingers around the base in a gentle squeeze, pulling up and sliding off like riding a wave, bobbing up and down. When he was lucky, Gilbert would get an erection with the slightest touch of his hand, but sometimes it took an eternity to get him hard.

The dexterity with which Ludwig plied his fingers made the shaft in his hand swell and lengthen fast, so he leaned in to lick across the swollen head of the cock in soft, wet strokes, warm tongue circling around it. Ludwig felt himself getting even harder. He flicked the tongue-tip in the indentation on the underside of the penis where the glans meets his shaft, and proceeded with assiduous care until it became firm in his mouth. For all his hygienic tendencies, he loved having Gilbert's cock in his mouth. His heart fluttered as he imagined the Prussian watching him, or breathing hard while he sucked him like this, gasping when he stroked his balls. A familiar sting of pain throbbed in his chest after he glanced up to see Gilbert's peaceful face.

Beforehand preparation helped Ludwig save time, and thus maintain Gilbert's erection, for as long as he stimulated him the erection remained consistent. He pulled his lips off of his glorious cock and licked the glans once more − there was pre-come yesterday, but not tonight − finding that it was ready to serve its purpose.

So far so good.

He retrieved the bottle that he had laid aside earlier to apply the lubricant onto his brother's erect shaft, and, although it had no practical use, he rubbed it into his scrotum as well.

Ludwig's shaft stood aggressively erect as he mounted the Prussian. For his own convenience, he slipped smaller pillows under his knees, and settled into a position that allowed him to control the speed and depth of penetration. It was the only position he could perform with a sleeping partner.

He held Gilbert's cock upright to position himself, and once he began moving slowly down the long shaft his eyes screwed shut in sheer pleasure, his erection twitched enthusiastically.

"Nnn… _ah_." He cried out softly in the heat of passion while he lowered himself down. Slowly, he rotated his hips in a circular way, already feeling the swollen head press against that spot that made him see white. He spread his legs further wantonly, letting his body slide down to the hilt, reveling in the depth of penetration.

He rolled his hips hedonistically, and thrust his pelvis back and forth in a circle again to search for the best angle and best position. It didn't take him long to lift his weight and start a steady rhythm. He bounced up and down dexterously, switching between deep thrusts and shallow, always careful not to press his entire weight down on Gilbert's body.

It was like being in a saddle, and he mastered the art of riding with outstanding velocity.

He was painfully aware of the fact that these were not morally sound actions, but he would close his eyes and imagine that Gilbert's own were open. It quieted his mind when he envisioned his brother helping him out, rising off the mattress to buck up against him and meet his thrusts. These pictures controlled his own state of arousal and emotional feelings. The psychological pleasure became more and more intense as the vivid images continued to play out in his mind, and he derived most satisfaction and enjoyment from these fantasies.

He pulled his white shirt up to look at his own erection, and put his other hand on his thigh, still riding the Prussian. Large drops of clear pre-come were dribbling slowly down his shaft and scrotum. He dug his fingers into the silky skin of his inner thigh as his orgasm neared, unsure whether to let go just yet — usually, he could reach a second climax within few minutes after the first one, but he didn't feel like dragging it out tonight.

The blond felt his muscles tightening in his lower abdomen and the first waves of pleasurable tingling, quickly shifting to shallow thrusts to delay his impending orgasm. Glancing up to see the pale, unresponsive features was enough to drive down his orgasmic euphoria.

Soon he closed his eyes anew, reaching between his legs to feel where his brother was connected to him, taking a full breath before starting to ride again, agile, fast, and light in movement.

He kept a steady pace for quite some time, but as his body grew tired he sought a more comfortable position. Breathing harshly, he slowed down to a stop to give his muscles a short break. He shifted to lower himself down, chest to chest with Gilbert, and bent his head to lean it onto his brother's shoulder as to avoid breathing directly into his ear. This was the closest he could get to Gilbert. His hands and elbows he rested on the pillow, on each side of Gilbert's head, supporting himself while he raised his hips.

"_Gilbert_." He breathed against his shoulder and kissed it, no longer trying to take in his whole length, keeping his thrusts shallow but fast, "_Bruder_…" His features twisted in pleasure, he was close to climax, "_Bruder_." He repeated in a moan, bucking down as his body shook with an orgasm. Something he was particularly ashamed of was the immense pleasure he felt upon ejaculating over Gilbert's abdomen. His breath hitched as he painted the pale skin with ribbons of white, enjoying in the slight clouding of consciousness.

His brother didn't come. He never did.

He once noticed milky droplets on the tip of Gilbert's shaft, but he was sad to discover that it was only pre-come.

Before starting to dispose of the evidences, he would take a break and lie next to the older nation. He felt ultimate bliss while being snuggled up against the Prussian. With all his misfortunes, these little details made him thankful even for the miserable situation he was in. He would settle into a comfortable position, wrap his arm around Gilbert's body, and press his face against his shoulder or chest to relish in the wave of drowsiness.

He often had to fight the snooze reflex. Falling asleep would be dreadful, for he still had to wipe Gilbert's body off with the clean cloth he has brought, and disappear from the bedroom before the sedative wore off or someone saw him. He recalled one time, a few months ago, when he had lapsed into velvety oblivion and dozed off beside the Prussian. A loud clatter coming from outside wrenched him awake and he had lurched out of the bed in the greatest rush imaginable. Frightened out of his wits, he dashed through the palace, shaking in panic long after he had reached his bedroom, locking the door behind him.

Ludwig let the frightful memory fade while he rubbed his nose against Gilbert's warm body, fingers playing over the strong chest wearily, following the faint heart-beat with his palm and listening to his soft breathing. He craved a closer connection, something more continuous, something to depend on. He desired to be held in return. What he longed for was a relationship which was both sexually and emotionally satisfying—something he wasn't able to get. Not with his brother.

He slid one hand under his side of the pillow, twisted his fingers in the fabric of Gilbert's shirt in deep sorrow.

"_Ich liebe dich_." He admitted in a husky whisper. Two warm drops slid down his still flushed cheeks, soaking into their shared cushion.

The gathering clouds outside foreboded a terrible storm.

**_To Be Continued…_**

**A/N: If you read carefully, you could observe that Germany is neither a necrophile nor a somnophile. I hope you have recognized the hints that confirm this.**

Also, I'm **SO SORRY **for not posting this earlier - it was written long ago, but due to some technical issues I wasn't able to share it with you earlier.

I **need** some motivation. Not even kidding - I didn't even start the next chapter yet, I just feel so _ugh_. Some encouragement would be wonderful, guys and gals.


	3. Chapter 3

**Pairing & Warnings:** same as before + Germany in Lederhosen

**A/N:** ****Yeah, um, I've got Ludwig in Lederhosen here, hope you won't hurt me for the stereotype… **The first part of the chapter has the explanations I promised last time, the second part returns to present time of the story.**

**- Chapter 3 -**

None of what Ludwig was doing happened quickly. Progress, though steady, has been very slow.

By midsummer 1864 the fighting with Denmark was over, and by then Ludwig's transformation too has taken place. Gilbert and Ludwig's mutual attraction was immediate. Soon thereafter, they began to enjoy each other's company more than ever, both equally unaware of their feelings being reciprocated.

Important advances were attained only gradually − it was in November when Ludwig first saw his brother's naked body by accident, and this long preceded the day when he could touch it. He disturbed the peace of Gilbert's bedroom for the first time in the early months of 1865, and even then he only grazed Gilbert's lips with his own once and kissed his cheek before retreating to his own territory. It took months of hard work and courage before he could do what he was doing now, months of guilt and fear before he was able to face the new day without having to shed tears of remorse. Then, at last, he set a steady course, aware that he couldn't bear without the nightly visits anymore, knowing that his feelings weren't mere sexual inclinations.

Gilbert appeared to him just like his future partner ought to be. There was no formality or stiffness between them − he felt at ease with his brother, loved his honesty and openness. His relations to Roderich were different. Ludwig called him uncle with a purpose, for he had no desire upon the Austrian—neither to unite, marry, nor spend his life with him.

He wasted nearly three agonizing months in obscure daydreaming about his brother, swimming in a hazy gray mist of hopelessness for far too long. All chances of a romance with Gilbert looked bleak, despite his young desires encouraging him to reveal his secret and tell Gilbert how enamored he was. It all changed however.

He had the singular fortune of witnessing a strange occurrence.

His brother suffered a terrible headache, and was given bromide as a remedy after he couldn't fall asleep for hours. It came to Ludwig in an epiphany that he could use the same method for his own purpose. Before this, he had been in a serious state of doubt whether to do something, but his usually nimble mind shattered within seconds because of this simple revelation.

He could have sat back to suffer quietly, but he had other, even more ambitious plans. His judgment grew weaker when it ought to have further matured. After months of adoring his brother from afar, he began drifting into some kind of urgent insanity. His pining for Gilbert was piling up more and more, his erstwhile brotherly affection turned into an obsession, and soon an odd circumstance presented itself to him. As he first saw Gilbert asking for tea, he thought it to be a subtle way to secretly spike his drink with bromide.

No sooner had a cozy fire and steaming tea become Gilbert's addiction, he began to acquire generous quantities of the sedative from the kitchen chamberlain. As of then, he amassed all his supplies in his bedroom and hid them there, roaming for an opportunity to use them on his brother.

The procedure was somewhat complicated, and the very thought of it introduced guilt to his chest.

Ludwig not only had to remove the evidences of his deeds and depart from his brother's room unnoticed, but to prepare his own body as well. He tried all kinds of food that some people claimed to have aphrodisiacal qualities such as chilies, chocolate, licorice, scallops, olives, and anchovies. Regardless of if the supposed aphrodisiacs had any effect or not, he continued exploring his body—gentle, playful touches at first— progressing fast. The thorough preparation both excited and relaxed him and it wasn't long before he could masturbate with several fingers in himself, until it became not only comfortable but pleasurable too. He knew, though, that he would have to learn to relax further once he got to ride Gilbert, for he was much thicker than fingers. Thus, he kept exploring himself more before deciding to visit the Prussian at night for the first time, and gave himself a luxurious amount of time to get entirely used to the new sensations.

For a long time he balked at adding the sedative into the tea, and after several feckless attempts at starting the feat, his spirits revived at last, and persuaded him to finally take action.

When he judged it to be the right moment, he acted.

As he imagined it, so it was. At least with _a number _of his expectations—Gilbert was fast asleep on his bed, and underneath all the clothes he found that body he was pining after for months. Yet his own reactions differed from what he had imagined.

He was petrified and frightened. He was sweating. He was terrified.

He was afraid of touching his own body.

After a long wait, he dared to kiss Gilbert's lips and draw his fingers down his naked chest, gently, dreading most that his brother would wake up at some hour. He allowed himself to advance across Gilbert's body with great caution, but every murmur struck him, and his fear banished all other urges and needs.

The horror of Gilbert waking and catching him red-handed soon outweighed all other feelings. Grateful that he has at least seen him naked again, Ludwig left after few hours, _fled_, and locked himself in his room. He waited until his fear wore off and his mind grew more composed before going for a new visit.

His second visit saw no drastic change compared to the previous one.

He crept on all-fours across Gilbert's bed, and stood still beside the sleeping nation for a good hour in a conflict of passion and penitents, musing what he should do in case Gilbert woke up. His heart would shrink at every sigh; his blood would run chill at each little movement.

The eagerness of his fancy prevailed though − he was resolved to continue his nightly visits until he could carry out what he had planned from the beginning, and so the strange ritual was born which has thrown him into a pit he couldn't climb out of. The reins on his own desire were too slack, the kindling lust made him insensible of the tragic mistake he has made.

Ludwig planned all his visits beforehand, with a sedulous attention to detail. He remained cautious and stood guard. His blood still curdled whenever he heard a noise, but his greatest dread was to hear Gilbert's wrathful voice, his greatest fear that Gilbert would disown him if he found out.

But Gilbert lay sound asleep, despite his touches, despite all noise, and these observations convinced Ludwig that nothing could wake his brother up.

He managed to throw himself into a coughing fit when he first opened his mouth to try fitting Gilbert's entire length in, but despite his initial clumsiness, he proved very dexterous in this after a short practice. So dexterous, in fact, that he wished to perform fellatio on Gilbert awake only to see the results.

It was an odd sensation when he first lowered himself on his brother's erection. He felt less comfortable than with all previous penetration, but it was tolerable. A fear-boosted burst of adrenalin obliterated all pain. The thought that it was Gilbert who filled him dulled all ache to nothing, and he never breathed a murmur, even after the fullness became incredibly pleasurable. Excitement was building up quickly, the tempo with which he mounted his brother sent a huge rush of ecstatic sensations through his inexperienced body, bringing him to an orgasm faster than he had expected.

After the evidence has been cleared, his supplies safe under lock and key, he assured himself that he was safe and began to reconstruct the actions he did the nights before.

It was done.

He took advantage of Gilbert and lost his own virginity to him.

His body calmed down quickly, his love and sexual interest began to ripen further. The discomfort he felt gradually ebbed away, and he accommodated to Gilbert's length until he felt nothing but satisfaction and pleasure. As a lover, he was far from being able to compete with Gilbert in variety of knowledge, but the small portion he did know he studied to the very details.

This pattern, regardless of circumstances, was repeated every week.

Ludwig feared in the beginning that his actions were a moral poison which threatened to contaminate Prussia, to taint his pure soul. He smiled in his brother's face, he spoke so innocently that Gilbert couldn't possibly distrust him, but all the time he felt a powerful regret—guilt was his greatest nemesis.

It took him months to learn to look at the brighter side of his poor condition, to start to observe his visits as a secret source of comfort. It took him an eternity to understand that his sins couldn't taint his brother's honor.

And all his new-found courage was destroyed by one single blow.

It happened on a dark night in late winter that he dared to leave Gilbert's bedroom without previously having ensured that there was no danger of being discovered. Without apprehensions, he stepped out and let the colder air embrace his still dazed body and mind, and though he walked on tip-toes, his presence was discovered by an unexpected witness.

Roderich stood at the end of the hall in his nightwear, and not even the glimmering candle in Ludwig's hand nor its warm light could conceal the paleness of his features when the older nation stopped to look at him. There was a tint of natural confusion in Roderich's eyes, but also suspicion. Distrust.

The excruciating squeak of Roderich's shoes as he turned away without a word sent Ludwig scrambling through the opposite side of the hall. That mild cynicism that marred the Austrian's features gave Ludwig a gradual, sickening sense of what to expect. He managed to increase his misfortune by his own folly.

This encounter scared him for a short period only − as Roderich didn't show signs of having truly perceived full implications of what he saw, Ludwig's visits continued in a tireless cycle, and he looked forward to them with greatest trepidation. He savored each visit as if it were the last one before his execution.

No one could ever possibly understand him. Not a single soul could know how wicked it felt to do _this_ to his own brother; how confusing it was to have Gilbert, yet not have him at all.

* * *

><p>Gilbert helped himself to a plate of nougat that stood innocently in front of him and Roderich.<p>

He could only distantly make out the buzz of voices around them, mentally remote, tightening his grip on his beer stein which was decorated by enameling and a carved Prussian eagle.*****

Roderich next to him was lavishly sugaring his tea, and the little morning party was in full swing, when suddenly Ludwig entered the dining room. And it was not only his brother's presence, but his attire which set Gilbert's blood into ferment, sent sweet terror to his heart.

His brother donned a pair of fetching _kurze_, those adorable short boys' Lederhosen, shorter than men's, for Ludwig still looked around 16 years of human age. Although boys' Lederhosen usually lacked embroidery, Ludwig's black laponia leather was elaborately decorated with white embroidered designs, paired with equally white knee-socks hugging his legs, a light short-sleeved shirt neatly tucked into the soft leather. One glimpse lower revealed to Gilbert a pair of handsome, delightfully small black leather shoes with side closure hooks.

The Lederhosen were an excellent example of German Tracht which Ludwig carefully selected from his wardrobe, a clothing which he planned to wear for today, even though it felt uneasy for him, _awkward_ even, to wear such clothes in a palace.******

What Ludwig wasn't aware of was that his Lederhosen attracted erotic interest in onlookers − less in some, more in others − but to Gilbert they concealed more than they revealed. The mere sight of Ludwig enchanted him. Oozing sexual attraction towards the younger German, he stifled a wanton whine, his pale fingers brushed over the fine, handmade cravings of the pewter lid in a gentle, caressing movement while he watched the milky skin of Ludwig's exposed thighs.

The suspenders were crossed over his back, clung to his white shirt on the front, hinting at the lean body underneath that was growing stronger with each day, and despite exposing his legs, the entire apparel gave Ludwig an air of masculine invulnerability and authority.

The Prussian was still reeling from the shock while Ludwig wandered through the dining saloon without approaching them, a feeling that changed into one of ecstatic worship which gave vent to Gilbert's latent lust as scarlet eyes followed the blond around the room. He desired Ludwig with such intensity that the feeling alone made him fiercely cling to his hopes of being unified with Germany someday.

It was ridiculous and humiliating that he had to hold himself back, to hide his deepest feelings; it was idiotic, but he wouldn't—he _couldn't_—take advantage of Ludwig's youth and innocence. What hindered him the most wasn't fear anymore, it was the thought that he wanted to seduce his little brother, give him sexual knowledge in return for his lost innocence, that tortured his conscience-stricken mind, and all his hopes were blighted by his cowardice and shame.

"If I get drunk, that's out of sorrow, for I won't be the one standing to Ludwig's left side when he gets married." Gilbert sighed pitifully. He kept his voice low. Ludwig had a distressing knack for turning him into a slobbering mess, and he was maudlin after being affected by alcohol − keeping quiet was a clever way of preventing the room from being flooded with gossip. Waiters could easily overhear conversations during meals when tongues were sometimes loosened by too much alcohol; they were experts at listening and putting together odd snippets of conversation.

Roderich shook his head and kept fanning himself with a folded napkin.

"_If_ he gets married. Few nations today enter into matrimony." The Austrian commented with mild distaste which Gilbert didn't catch as Ludwig was holding his fascinated attention. The brunette was observant and distrusting of Ludwig. Even though he was young, he could well be a wolf in sheep's clothing, something that Gilbert failed to understand.

"Don't whine and snivel," Roderich added, sending ripples of pain through Gilbert's chest. "You look ridiculous, you benighted fool." The Austrian squished his heart and flung it back at him.

Gilbert pursed his lips, opened them—but said nothing.

He didn't believe Roderich. He knew the Austrian would never say anything to his benefit. But he also knew that, at least in this matter, Roderich was right. He could never have Ludwig, and Ludwig never deceived him into thinking he shared his feelings either.

The atmosphere thawed and Gilbert continued watching his brother quietly, but this drew no notice from Roderich anymore.

Through rising excitement, Gilbert saw Ludwig's approaching gaze, but when the younger German caught his stare for the first time, he gave him a puzzled look and shrugged it off, dismissed the whole event as a mere trifle since he didn't want to mistake innuendo for fact, not aware of how wrong he was.

**_To Be Continued…_**

**Notes:**  
><strong>*<strong> The word **stein** is a shortened form of Steinzeugkrug, which is German for stoneware jug or tankard. **Example**: http: /imageshack. /us /f/805/beerstein1. jpg/ **(without the spaces)**

**** Tracht** is a traditional national costume in German-speaking countries.

**A/N: Yes, Roderich knows of Gilbert's feelings for Ludwig, and he suspects Ludwig feels the same, but he doesn't want to act as a mediator. Why? Well… *laughs***

****Again, I'm sorry for taking so long to update, but, God willing, I shall post regular updates from next chapter on.****

**Also, guys, I usually answer only to reviews which have questions, so please don't think I ignore your comments. I cherish each one of them, especially when people reveal their thoughts to me - if you have any kind of questions that you want me to answer, don't hesitate :)**

* * *

><p><strong>For <em>curiosityISholocaust<em>: (answer to your question, since you don't have an account)** In the yaoi genre, the slash-sign is used in a way to determine seme and uke, or in other words, the active and passive part. The answer to your first questions is - even if the 'uke' (let's say Germany) rides the 'seme' (e.g. Prussia), he's still the 'uke', so it will be written like this: Prussia/Germany. Now, I'm a person who, frankly, doesn't give a damn about the uke/seme divisions, and I don't care about the slash-sign either: The slash-sign signifies for me only the pairing, not who's top or bottom. I can write Prussia/Germany and have Germany top, or the other way around, I don't have the uke/seme division in my mind when I write the pairing. When it comes to your third question - I really don't know, I'm sorry. I've never written a threesome, and I wouldn't know what people write when they use the slash-signs in this case. I just use it to indicate the pairing, not the fact who will top/bottom. I hope this helped in some way.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Before we start,**** this**** is a Friesian horse: **i54. tinypic. com /10f86kl. jpg** (no spaces)  
><strong>

**Have you ever listened to **_**The Hardest of Hearts**_** by Florence + The Machine? I think the song fits this story **_**perfectly**_**. You'll know what I mean if you see the lyrics. You can find it on Youtube easily if you wish.**

**- Chapter 4 -**

It was a summer day.

A dull, warm day in the summer, and Ludwig was leaning on an elegant barrier in the garden, observing the people that were swarming all over the place. His tranquil look lingered on the gentle contrast between the green of the gardens and the severity of the surrounding buildings. The sound of hoofs clicking against hard solid caught his attention and pulled him out of his musings.

Gilbert has been meandering through the park on a horse, but as soon as he spotted Ludwig, he came riding towards him. The Prussian followed a curving path flanked with flower-beds when a row of high Leyland cypress trees suddenly obscured Ludwig's view for a few moments, though as the horse emerged again, he strode down the grand staircase to welcome him.

The black Friesian stallion carried himself with elegance while Gilbert was sitting up straight and proud, slightly lifting his weight out of the saddle, thrusting his hips forward in rhythm of the trot.

Ludwig had to look away. The image was too tempting.

"Don't loiter there!" Gilbert called as he accosted his brother. He pulled the reins and stopped the horse steps away from the younger nation. The black stallion nickered and shook its head in greeting, and Ludwig drew nearer to stroke his strong neck with a blooming smile. His hand stayed there for a brief moment.

"Come, let's ride together."

Ludwig glanced up. "Poor horse."

The Prussian gave a laugh and swung his leg over the horse's rump, dropping on the ground with expertise.

"This beauty here can carry a knight in armor." He assured, "You're not heavy, just hop on and ride."

"Very well. But only as far as the lake, and no further." Ludwig demanded, but his brother was already crouched on one knee, keeping the other lifted square. He used Gilbert's knee as a boost and climbed up onto the horse.

A second later and the Prussian was seated behind him. He was tall and strong enough to lift himself up alone. Ludwig felt a pang of stinging joy at being so close to him.

If Gilbert would only mount him like he mounted that horse.

Ludwig felt his heart leap warmly in his throat at the obscene thought. He clenched his fists and perceived the manner in which Gilbert was sitting—thighs flush against his own, arms wrapped around his sides as he reached for the reins. Gilbert took the bridles, watching how the scudding clouds made way for the sun, a smile tugging on his lips while the sunlight played on Ludwig's golden hair.

There was something intimate in the way Gilbert's chest was pressed against his back, in the way he was breathing into his ear. Their bodies were as though glued and Ludwig made a puny attempt at creating a little bit of space between them, but his brother kept scooting nearer.

"To the lake, it is!" The horse responded to the light squeeze of Gilbert's legs and started a steady walk.

If anyone thought that horse-riding has nothing erotic to it − this was a very wrong assumption. While they were cantering over the paved roads, Gilbert kept his rear just slightly off the horse's back like a horseman ought to do, but he rocked forward and backward all the while, nearly temping Ludwig to grind back against him. Searing desire was gushing through Ludwig; lust was prickling every inch of his young body.

It was about a mile of this torment before they reached the lake at last.

Gilbert pulled on the reins, making the stallion halt beside the pond of water. The picaresque view and striking contrast of summer colors distracted Ludwig long enough to miss how his brother nudged the horse lightly and headed towards the peaceful green of the water. It occurred to Ludwig then that something was amiss.

"Gilbert?" He asked, puzzled. He expected an answer after the Friesian's hooves disappeared under the surface and water swallowed the horse's front legs, but his brother wasn't disposed to make any. The Prussian gave an amused chuckle and smiled archly behind him, playful and mischievous.

He encouraged the stallion to go further into the lake.

"Brother! Why are you riding him into the water?" A look of dismay crept over Ludwig's face while he protested—the water has already reached their boots. Undaunted, Gilbert wasn't stopping with whatever he has intended to do.

"Gilbert, enough! Make him turn around!" Ludwig rather begged than ordered. He's finally come to understand what Gilbert's stratagem was.

His brother wouldn't listen though.

"If you go in any further I'll—"

"You will what?" Gilbert guffawed ecstatically behind him, guiding the horse into the lake. When the blond felt the animal go even deeper, cold water biting the Friesian's legs and soaking into his own beige breeches, he began to squirm and grind back against the older nation with the intention of preventing the water from reaching any higher, but in vain. He never realized how his dogged struggle and wriggling aroused Gilbert whose laughter ceased.

Ludwig lost all hope of saving the rest of his clothes after the horse found the water a great source of amusement and flipped its nose on the surface of the lake, splashing both riders.

The damage was done; it was no use crying over spilled milk.

Drenched entirely in sunlight and water from the waist down, Ludwig repined about his condition. He gave a piteous whine and plunged his hand into the water, between his legs, only to discover that, indeed, he was having an erection.

"I hate you, Gilbert… I hate you…" He trailed off woefully and leaned forward to press his flushed cheek against the Friesian's strong neck. There wasn't a scintilla of truth in his words. He rested his cheek there while his brother led the horse back to the shoreline, petting the horse to keep himself in line.

"No. No you don't." Gilbert retorted lightheartedly.

"I hate you…" The younger nation gripped the Friesian's thick mane with his fingers while he muttered himself calm.

"Oh, come now, Ludwig, don't exaggerate." Gilbert wound his arms around Ludwig's waist and pulled him up again, flush against his chest. Ludwig's heart leaped into his throat for the second time that day. Only a wet layer of clothes was now separating him from Gilbert's body, cruelly reminding him of his taut skin, his flawless body, his smooth lips.

He chalked this up as another one of his misfortunes.

To Ludwig's disadvantage or dissatisfaction, Gilbert started a light trot and headed back.

There couldn't be much to the palace, Ludwig hoped while they rode. But there was.

* * *

><p>Drizzle rained down on Ludwig's rankled heart.<p>

The rain fell stronger. It was pouring on his very soul.

After the slack period following his last secret visit, the nights seem to stretch to infinity. Confusion and somber mood of his bedroom kept him awake until dawn.

Bereft of sleep, at the mercy of guilt, Ludwig opened his eyes to force away his crying shame, but no sooner had his blue eyes adjusted to the dull darkness of the room, he saw the other side of the pillow—lonely and unoccupied.

He regarded the cushion for a long time; the sight of it awakened memories of his brother.

He had only half a bottle. Half, not even a full one. It was enough for lying beside Gilbert—but this was everything he had. There was not a single bottle of bromide left in the palace. He alone couldn't have someone buy bromide for him without prescription, and no one would give out the amount of quantities he needed to a single consumer. He was trapped. Once again.

If he used it now, he would be barehanded.

Wrapped tightly in his feather covers, Ludwig felt like a poor wretch lost in a desert − wavering, unsure whether he should drink up his last drops. And he was dehydrated, the sun was burning his skin, the heat was melting his hopes. What if there was no oasis hiding behind the dune that stretched out before him? What if these were indeed his last drops—shouldn't he use it wisely?

His fingers toyed with the soft fabric of his pillow, summoning up memory after memory.

If he could only look at him, touch his chest. A tender touch of his lips and nothing more. Just one kiss. Then another.

He lost himself in the want of his brother.

His breathing quickened, his desire was growing.

He would never want anyone else the way he wanted Gilbert. He would never touch another nation without thinking of his brother.

If Gilbert could only know how much he loved him, how desperate he was to have him.

He felt his breath catch in his lungs when he realized he was touching himself. He ended his ill-starred ministrations with a lazy stroke over his chest, angry at himself.

He was condemned to want what he didn't have, and not accept any less. To persistently yearn for something bigger than he should or was allowed to. He had bitten off more than he could chew.

Heavens, wasn't there _anything_ to help him just the slightest bit? His back was breaking under the weight. Could he do something to shake off the guilt and put his mind to a rest? To bare his soul and pour his heart out? He was barely keeping his head above the water.

Still, he was being punished less than his sin has deserved. Could Fate possibly have mercy in storage for him?

Ludwig lay in his bed, a forlorn look on his face. He was slowly eaten up by guilt and remorse. It was too late.

It had been too late months ago. He couldn't make amends now.

A demanding task was set before him, but he had yet to accept the fact that Prussia and Germany could not be one, that some barriers between them could never be washed away.

_**To Be Continued…**_

**A/N: Ludwig is about to get in trouble soon... **

**My beta and I have been busy these days, but I'm sure you're tired of hearing excuses. That being said - two or three more chapters await you, depending on where I decide to split the chapters, so tell me…**

… **do you want three shorter OR one shorter + one longer chapter?**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Sending my kisses to all reviewers. Guys, you're awesome.  
><strong>

**- Chapter 5 -**

Ludwig stood with a bare candle in his hand, haunted by doubt.

On entering the bedroom, he concluded that his brother has probably been asleep for a while, but he still wasn't definite about this.

He sneaked in without a hindrance. A full moon lit the night sky. He proceeded slowly but inexorably, then stopped in his tracks.

This was an error. A grave error.

Wasting his precious drops of bromide on such a nonsensical act was a decided flaw. His logic told him outright that he was making a mistake. A yet another lapse from grace, another failure in moral conduct.

There was a sudden chill in the air.

A flicker of anxiety washed over Ludwig's face. He hung his head, wavering, eyes followed the white of his delicately wrought nightgown that fell down to his knees. Fine Egyptian cotton, simple but elegant design, trimmed with beautiful lace. Fingers fidgeted with the smooth muslin of his banded cuff while he stood there, unsure whether to give in to his lingering intention. He came to seek solace, but it was his contention that his plan was bound to fail.

He should have stayed in bed.

No, not in his bed. Anywhere but his bed. That was where he wanted to run from, to leave the place where he was confined by misery. Why did he allow himself to be swayed?

To quell his fear, he thought of his dire circumstances. In the depths of his deep and growing despair, he couldn't stand another night without Gilbert, another night of disordered sleep, another night tinged with sadness. It was a torture to his hungry heart. The long wait has driven him to distraction. Still, he felt a profound regret for having wasted almost all of his sedative.

Despite the obstacle that hindered him, he made an ingenious solution and took a grudging step forward.

His mind bellowed at his body, but it was despair that goaded him on. After a stagnant month, he was driven to agony.

A flicker of the candle lighted his brother's sleeping figure, his face, serene and still.

His spirits rallied after this first success.

Ludwig felt his breath come quicker. Between the devil and the deep blue sea, faced with two equally undesirable choices, he would always choose this. Want was winning him over, the scene lured him on. His sense of right had a nasty tumble—the sight was so crushing that he forgot about his dignity. Need blurred the line between right and wrong, trumped every trace of scruples. His conscience was a poor guide in this matter.

In the final upshot, he made a brisk walk toward the sleeping nation. When he climbed into the bed, he felt wretched. This is how he spent the first bloom of his youth—returning to the roots of his discontent and sorrow. This is what he was doing to save himself from another solitary night in his room. He crept over the pale lavender silky satin of the covers and knelt beside the Prussian. A couple of dexterous moves and Gilbert was divested of his shirt. At last, he could let his hands wander across his chest again, after a whole eternity.

It was little consolation for Ludwig. It did nothing to impede his misery.

On his knees still, he leaned in, kissing lightly across Gilbert's forehead. The gesture derived only pain, no pleasure.

Another kiss, another try to nurse his despair. A tender one on his eyelid, on the sharp nose he loved, on his hard jaw. He cupped Gilbert's cheek in his palm, thumb caressing his skin, shaved and soft.

He treasured the moment, admiring his brother beyond measure. It was a stinging bliss to have him in his arms again.

He continued, watchful for signs of awakening. The tip of his index finger he put lightly over his bottom lip, tracing out the velvety skin in a touch that sent him into an ecstatic joy for a brief moment.

Blue eyes slid close as he grazed Gilbert's lips again, with his own now, before he took it between his teeth and sucked gently. A soft bite followed. He divined how good it was to do this again. If only Gilbert would tilt his head up to kiss back.

He licked along the sweet lips, covering them with small nips that piqued his desire. To prevent his body from yielding to the temptation, he thought of his secret wooden box that he has left in his bedroom. A quarter bottle of bromide which he added into Gilbert's tea tonight wasn't enough for prolonged interaction.

He dragged the collar down to expose his neck which he showered with more kisses, a whiff of scented soap danced in his nostrils as he advanced lower with a hum. Fingertips ran up and down both of his arms, across his collarbone and over her shoulders. Lips were on his forehead now, a sweet short kiss on his lips again, hands wandering freely, touching him, feeling him. A kiss on his shoulder, then back up on his pale cheek, while quick fingers took a lively interest in skimming over his ribs, his taut muscles.

His heart was hammering. He listened closely, worshiping Gilbert's every breath.

His brother was there, but he was thousands of miles away from him.

Ludwig's last anchor was loosening its hold. He couldn't reconcile himself to the fact that all this was pointless, that his first flush of youth was wasted in these agonizing circumstances.

This wasn't love. It was self-humiliation, blind devotion, and submission to the worst in him. Tears and hiding, tears and suffering.

He has fallen into such a subjection to his brother. Was he the only one to know the feel of being in the hands of someone who wasn't even aware of it?

At last finding it impossible to continue his vain attempts, he fell to the side, body lined up against Gilbert. With a sigh of exhausted anguish he wound an arm around his brother, fingers reached to the back of his neck. He threaded them through the thick, platinum-blond locks, brushing his ear lightly. His depression was not alleviated by that, he only felt oppressive sadness. The very touch grieved him—deep-seated bitterness stirred within him.

It was plain—his romantic ideals were impossible to preserve. His lofty hopes were inherently unrealistic. Whatever he might wish, it was impossible to have the one he loved, despite all his untiring efforts.

He held Gilbert's shirt in a tight clench, fingers twisted the cloth painfully in the same manned Gilbert has wrung his poor heart.

He clung onto him until he wearied himself with it and all thoughts neglected him.

Dark clouds were passing on the sky. A myriad of stars was still visible.

He lost track of time. Hour after hour he would lie beside the older nation, giving a deep sigh ever so often. His mood swung between elation and gloom.

The young German was tired, but he retained an indomitable spirit and willed himself to stay awake with grim determination.

Daybreak drew nigh.

At the height of his hopelessness, the clock struck five and the morning chimes aroused him. While the metal clock-hands slowly crept onto six o'clock, he rose from the bed and buttoned Gilbert's shirt up. He was enervated and fatigued by the long ordeal, and his body was not very keen on the idea of standing up.

As he sat up, his legs dangled over the side of the bed, barely touching the ground. The candles were wasted. Dawn was stealing over the mountaintops steadily.

Ludwig watched the sweep of the horizon through the large window, a sparkling sunrise dazzled him, announcing a fine morning.

Slinking away now sounded reasonable.

He continued to sit there, contemplating about possible egress, but did nothing.

His conscience slipped back to those remorseful thoughts. He became obsessed with ideas of moral obligation, of guilt and innocence, going all the way back to his first encounter, to the night when everything has started. He was committing a vile crime that has arisen out of entirely selfish motives.

He still smarted when he remembered how he lost his innocence. Mistakes glared from every corner. His mind succumbed to such twist of paths, he thought he was close to losing his mind.

He had to comfort his conscience. His lips parted, he took a breath before falling in an earnest plea.

"Dear God, I beg You to hear my words." Ludwig started with a low murmur. His soul would perish in the eternal torment of hell, deprived of joys of heaven, and he still had the modesty to pray.

"Instruct me, I need guidance. I do not ask for much." He whispered aloud, groping for inspiration and hope. "Let me see him happy. Let him feel nothing but love and devotion for me. My heart I have lost, for I gave it to Gilbert long ago. But all I have left I give to You if You will make it so." A gush of sorrow swept through his chest after the prayer. A lonely glistening drop rolled down his cheek.

His head was throbbing.

While he begged inwardly for Gilbert to never tempt him again, more tears welled up in his eyes.

What joy the Lord has denied him.

In these past few months, he has shed more tears than he was comfortable to admit.

The worst happened then. A little devil, a faint flush of hope, rose from the depth of his heart that was enraptured in its own dream. Some remote and distant hope remained there that Gilbert might someday perhaps find him attractive too.

Fatigued with false hopes, he tried to fend it off. It was a direct affront to his fortitude and determination not to come here anymore. Feeling his emotions clash, Ludwig was torn—he knew his dark secret would stand in the way of his future with Prussia. What is more, his love for Gilbert only grew, and his problems didn't show any signs of disappearing.

If his conscience was strong enough to put manacles on him remained to be seen.

The dawn slowly restored his good reason. His heart was mute.

He sat for a little time on the side of the bed until he heard a rustle beside him, and dried his moist eyes.

Amidst the silence, Gilbert gave a sleepy moan. As he opened his eyes, tenderly upon him was the face of his brother.

Blue eyes wandered timidly over the Prussian whom he deemed to be surprised at his company. Gilbert watched him with something faintly like wonder, but soon returned to his usual poise.

"Since when have you been here?" He couldn't resist the impulse to ask, curious to know what had led Ludwig to his bedroom, a touch of surprise in his voice.

He was met with a sober face.

"I came to wake you." Ludwig answered the question he had braced himself for. Gilbert would never know how ashamed he was to tell him the truth. "I have been invited to attend a royal reception and I came to inform you before I left." He finished his lucid explanation. "May I enlist your help in this?"

Gilbert squinted at the elaborate grandfather clock that showed half past five.

"Is anyone even stirring at this early hour?"

Ludwig didn't recognize suspicion in his voice. Gilbert was naïve and clueless to a fault.

"I didn't mean to usurp your rest." The younger German said, knowing that his brother had a cordial dislike for being woken up.

"I will be most willing to offer my help after another two hours of sleep."

"That will do handsomely." Ludwig replied and let the matter rest. Gilbert stretched himself with a groan and a winning smile on his lips, too blinded by Ludwig's presence to understand his enigmatic behavior.

The smile didn't extend to Ludwig, it only reopened his wounds. It charged him to smile in return, but he offered only a watery smile in lieu. His expression quickly melted into one of a wan look. He looked away with downcast eyes.

That little smile now sadly gone, Gilbert watched him. Vacant blue eyes stared at the parquet; he looked so pale and tired. What was hiding behind that despondent aura? Gilbert has never seen misery of this kind on someone's face before. He gave himself to puzzling out the source of Ludwig's great unhappiness, but he didn't question him—he felt he would humiliate him with his curiosity.

Ludwig felt Gilbert's steady gaze on himself and thought about taking his departure.

"I had better take my leave now."

"You are under no compulsion to leave." Returned the albino, smiling, a mischievous light in his eye. "Bide here for a while and lie down with me." He ventured a suggestion without a hidden agenda behind his words.

Ludwig's stomach knotted up.

Gilbert was watching him with expectant eyes, but he was hesitant to embrace the opportunity. The only drawback was physical closeness. The same closeness he craved.

His brother made a dim suggestion that he might touch him; he didn't flinch. Gilbert didn't seem deterred by his lack of interest.

Ludwig's attention was diverted by a dogged grip on his wrist. His reluctance was spoiled once Gilbert pulled him in—he was in much need of his hushing voice and gentle touch. With a scarlet face, he lay down, attentive to his and Gilbert's body position. The Prussian has squeezed him in a tight grip, arm round his waist, cheek on his neck. Gilbert's strong thighs were firmly up against his, groin pressed against his ass. A sudden impulse of lust seized the blond. His shaft hardened in an involuntary reflex, enthusiastic about the fact that Gilbert was lying in the same bed with him.

'_No, no, no!_' A voice screamed in his head, he knew too well what his body was interested in. Beneath his fingers he meshed a scallop of cream broderie anglaise embroidery on the pillowcase, desperately trying to separate his inner voice from Gilbert's.

It was in an instant, after a tiny little gesture which made a sudden bolt in his mind that new sensations started seeping into his consciousness—he felt Gilbert's index finger stroke the soft skin of his inner wrist and a nuzzle against his hair.

For the first time in a while, Ludwig let his body go slack and melted into the brotherly tenderness. His eyes refused to remain open.

How much he wished to lay his cards on the table and confess everything.

"Brother?" The blond dropped his voice to a whisper. "Do sinners go to hell?" He asked with a twinge of guilt.

A sigh, deep but dull, was given in response, as if Gilbert was earnestly contemplating what to say.

"That place men call hell is not tangible, not touchable. It has no limits." He stipulated, "Hell or heaven are within. We create either hell or heaven around us." The Prussian gave a thoughtful nod at his own words, his nose nuzzled against the blond hair where he now nestled his face.

Ludwig pondered. Where did such a humanistic streak in Gilbert's belief stem from? _Hell hath no limits_, it sounded so familiar.

Where only did he hear those words before?

"Have I read that somewhere?"

"Doctor Faustus."

Ah.

"Do I create the hell, brother?"

A smile stretched across Gilbert's lips as he pressed a kiss against the crown of his head.

"No. You are my heaven. You are a model of virtue." Said the older nation, stressing his affirmation and affection with another kiss.

If he only knew…

'_You are my heaven too._' Ludwig wished to say, but the words refused to come out.

Gilbert was both. He was his heaven and hell.

The gentle pressure on his hand bribed him into a sweet state of slumbering.

**_To Be Continued…_**

**A/N: The next chapter is our great finale - it'll be exciting. Stay tuned, guys!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Beta'd by raecat**

**A/N: *I LIED. gif***

**Sorry, guys! This was so unexpected - I had to split the last chapter into two parts, so it's technically two chapters now. Holy Mother of Jesus, I didn't expect it to end up so long. Next one is the last - I'm so sorry for misinforming you. **

**- Chapter 6 -**

There came a single rap on the door.

Roderich gazed inside and found Ludwig nestled in a sofa, snug with a book near the hearth, alone. He was looking wistfully at the crackling fire that glowed in the grate, listening for the sound of the vile weather outside. His eyelids, weighted with trouble, drooped low. Ash-pale face matched the neck-frills of white that hid his neck—even when his features caught the flash of the flames the paleness was visible, the orange glow couldn't conceal it.

Footsteps jarred Ludwig awake. A look of puzzlement flit across his face when he saw the Austrian, before acknowledging him with a dip of his head.

"My apologies for imposing on your hospitality at such an hour, Ludwig." Roderich started. "I have long wanted to ask you a question."

Upon Ludwig offering no objection, he took a seat.

Ludwig thought it was a strange time to hold a conversation. The Austrian surely had something more fitting to occupy his leisure hours. He felt a yawn wanting to escape, but he had hardly opened his mouth when he paused with his hand in mid-air, half-way from his lips. It suddenly dawned on him.

Ludwig was struck dumb with sudden terror.

He bolted upright and peeped at his wooden chest that lay closed on the sofa. Too late.

"I beg pardon. What is in that box?"

A blast of shock rushed through the younger nation, freezing his body, his movements. He couldn't find his voice, mortified at the unseemly question. He lifted his eyes to inspect the inspector.

"What box?" He almost stammered, his head in a turbid thought process. Fear welled up inside him. He wished Roderich wouldn't tamper with the questions.

"The one you are hiding behind your back." Roderich harped on it.

Ludwig's face suffused with a glow of shame.

"It is nothing of great importance." His cheeks were on fire. He looked away, striving to free himself of the pressure of Roderich's gaze. Eyes with calm unconcern watched him, thwarting his attempts to breathe properly. Why couldn't he breathe? Where was all the air?

"Ludwig, are you hiding something?"

Ludwig waited until the violence of his fear has worn itself out.

"No." He replied, now showing a defiant spirit. Roderich kept a watch upon his manners, but he took this slight. Ludwig's refusal to answer questions added fuel to his curiosity.

Secrecy engendered suspicion.

Ludwig was determined not to divulge any information. Damnation was sure for him for practicing deception on both Gilbert and Roderich.

"Will you reveal to me the urging matter now?" Ludwig asked with an air of injury.

"Naturally." Roderich replied, veering the conversation onto another topic. "I hope to have a word with you about an important issue. I have a question concerning Gilbert."

Ludwig's heart quivered.

"What about him?" A lump rose in his throat as he spoke, gaze glued to the floor. Roderich coughed into his fist—perhaps to draw his attention or pausing to muse over his words, but Ludwig held his gaze.

"Have you noticed a change in his behavior?" Roderich pursued.

Ludwig felt faint.

"No. I think not." He said with a little impatience. To shun Roderich's cold, uncompromising gaze, he had his fists resolutely clenched, eyes fixed on the same spot.

"And in yours?" The Austrian said with sudden gravity.

That tone foxed him.

"I cannot follow." Ludwig replied in a demure voice, gazing up timidly. It didn't fool Roderich. He knew too well that appearances were misleading—that reticence and coyness had to be a veil for richly sexual nature.

"Ludwig, I am far older than you. I try to distance myself from allegations, and I don't wish to wrong you by reckless hurling of unfounded accusations. My intentions are noble. This is a brief advice, but the best one I can give you. Whatever you have been doing until now—drop it."

It was of no avail for Ludwig to fight against the branching chill that crept up his ribs from both sides of his frozen spine.

He could have given a straight answer, but instead he hedged again.

"I do not know what you mean." He paltered, abashed.

Roderich sighed at his evasive replies.

"I do know." A brisk reply came. "Let me be frank with you, Ludwig. Your behavior has become increasingly strange." This put a completely different hue on the matter. Ludwig felt another chill run down his spine.

"Can you say, hand on heart, that you did not secretly visit Gilbert at night without his consent? Can you claim that your conscience is clear?"

"My conscience is perfectly clear." Ludwig said with some heat. It was a deliberate lie, but Roderich let it pass again. "There is no tangible evidence to support your claim." The blond continued in a dry tone, pride too entered his voice. The little he had left. "There is not a scrap of evidence to prove it." He fortified his argument.

He glued his eyes to the hearth, wrapped in his fluffy shelter, avoiding the Austrian's gaze, his face a glowing fire.

Roderich knew: he felt it. He _knew_.

He knew all along that he has developed a mad obsession with Gilbert.

He had already composed himself to face the inevitable and chose not to disclose his secrets.

"Verily, I'm here as an impartial third party. I beseech you to think again, Ludwig. Be guided by your conscience. What are you hiding?"

Ludwig had no immediate comment.

His confidence was besieged by Roderich's questions.

"I do not understand any of what you are saying." There wasn't a vestige of truth in what he spoke. Roderich listened to his flummery without believing it.

"Don't pull the wool over my eyes, Ludwig, I am not your guileless Gilbert."

Ludwig was on the ropes. Chased into a corner, he shrunk back in revulsion, shrank into his sofa, into himself. He wanted to hide his face in shame.

Roderich was convinced of his guilt, he merely came here to pry the secret out of him.

Mocked by Fortune again.

He gnashed. Roderich took his time in tormenting him.

Didn't he have at least an ounce of compassion? Couldn't he sense his despair? Why didn't he see how vulnerable he was? Roderich didn't know how it was to be stalked by the threat of being discovered. In order to put a stop to his anguish and humiliation, he twisted his fingers in his creamy breeches, a look of malignity entered his beautiful eyes.

"Uncle Roderich, you—you better leave me." He gritted out after few moments of silence with some secrecy.

Roderich came at a heavy moment, at a sharp downturn in his life. Telling lies to him was already difficult enough for Ludwig, but re-opening the subject of Gilbert now that he was finally set on avoiding any further nightly visits and finding elusive happiness was torment. He couldn't bear the humiliating reminder. He couldn't allow himself to be beset by nasty rumors about his private life. Ludwig knew that if Roderich were to tell Prussia about his suspicions, it was inevitable that Gilbert's pure vision of him would shatter, and their bond then had to shatter along with it.

In the stony silence that stretched between them every instant seemed like an hour.

"You misapprehend me, Ludwig." Roderich spoke because he wanted to avoid silence. "I am not made of stone. I ask you, not as a superior, but as a fellow nation, to follow my advice. I urge you, even." Roderich sought his gaze. Instead, Ludwig contented himself with glaring at the carpet.

Roderich's display of affection was certainly a pretense. Ludwig appreciated his advice, but he knew deep down that he couldn't follow it. He couldn't give consent to anything so much was his hurt.

"I reckon you among my friends." Roderich said to soften it off a little and Ludwig felt a pang of bitterness. "I have always used to see you as a nation of probity and good judgment."

Ludwig's look has grown worn. Their conversation rendered him guiltily doubtful. Roderich was touching him in a weak place.

Should he open his breast and confess now?

It was all a ghastly mistake. To come clean of it now and here!

His conscience was too strong to live with the secret; he had to free himself of the burden so that he could live comfortably again.

He was so void of everything that was good, a monster who was slowly destroying his brother's and his own life, and felt remorse only at losing Gilbert. Such a felony he had committed, even death couldn't wash it away.

"I do not doubt that you have entangled yourself in a tricky matter, but ally yourself with reason, Ludwig. For your own sake if not for mine."

He had to pluck up courage and tell him the truth. He had to.

"I don't have to remind you that dignity once lost is lost forever." The Austrian said sagely.

Wrong words. Razor-sharp words.

They cut off every Ludwig's wish to confess.

"I defer to your superior knowledge, but I do not need these pungent observations about mass expectations." The blond said dryly.

"Lie to yourself if you want, but do not lie to me."

"I am upset that you harbor such a terrible notion about me, Uncle Roderich. My brother would never—"

"Your brother in name only. Not by law or blood."

The words stultified him.

His heart couldn't withstand Roderich's arguments. They have been talking for nigh half an hour, yet he wasn't desirous of more conversation. Roderich's presence was a strain.

"I hoped we could have a rational conversation, Ludwig."

Ludwig couldn't listen to his voice anymore. Even a man with dignified bearing could be a brute. In order not to disguise that he wished him gone, Ludwig kept his head down. He was steadily gaining confidence.

"Think twice before you commit a sacrilege. Neither do I think that you can be happy with Prussia."

Ludwig couldn't help but wonder whether he traced a hint of malice in his words.

"How are you to know? You are not in love." He whispered, a quick shame mixed with misery on his face.

Roderich has finally managed to wring an answer out of him.

"This has no bearing on the matter under discussion. My question does not concern your… affection for Gilbert."

"Stop there." A defiant tone in his voice. He would rather torture himself for his entire life than have to lose Gilbert for only a second.

"That is very impolite." Roderich lectured, Ludwig put a brave face on.

"It is meant to be so." Malice lurked in his features as he gave vent to his latent anger.

How dare he go between him and Gilbert.

"I know that you are governed by untapped lust, but don't fool yourself with thought that you will marry or couple with him. You might succeed for a week, a month, a year even, but then someone will find out, Ludwig. Be thankful that no one knows and that nothing worse has happened. No nation of honor would engage in such actions."

How they hurt. How they burned. Words have always been the most powerful weapon.

"I am no nation of honor then." Ludwig wanted to appear confident, but he was weak. Weak as a straw. Roderich's words did the most appalling things to his heart, but the Austrian took no heed of this. He didn't care for his strait. He didn't have ears for his silence.

"As a nation you perform an office of great dignity − you are in a very precarious position, Ludwig." Roderich ventured another try to bring the young German to his senses, "Every vile act would earn a young nation moral rebuke and social condemnation."

His words only evoked a bitter retort.

"A nation can never be dishonored by villainous rumors."

Tears burned in Ludwig's eyes, blurring his vision. There wasn't a drop of sympathy in Roderich.

"Ludwig, why do you gorge yourself on such reckless feelings and thereby risk your reputation and honor?" Roderich pleaded to know.

Ludwig tore at his breeches desperately. He could hardly see through the tears that have gathered in his eyes.

"Is it wrong to cleave to such fond affections?" He said with a lumpy throat, his heart cried aloud for mercy. "What is the matter? Are we disgusting?"

He looked up at him with challenging aggressiveness.

"That question is beyond the scope of this conversation, that is not my point—"

"What is your point then? It is not moral?" Ludwig's voice was cracking, "Is it moral to spend your entire life with someone you do not love?"

Roderich stared, amazed at his reply. These words revealed the extent to which Ludwig had deluded himself to believe that he loved Prussia.

Ludwig tightened his lips. He has been too hasty. Now he was riding on a tide of sympathy.

"Have pity upon me, Uncle Roderich. If you can." He added in a whisper. "If you still hold onto my respect for you." He was crestfallen, exhausted in his body and mind, "I am in no need of an advice. I will have to trust my own luck. It shall be as God wills."

He said no more.

Leaving seemed a sensible decision to Roderich right then. His thoughts wandered back to Prussia for a brief second.

There was no peace between them, only armistice. An armistice that could be broken at any time.

He was devoured by jealousy.

He didn't desire Ludwig in the way Gilbert did, but it was clear whom Ludwig would choose if Gilbert and he were to take the opposing sides. Ludwig's loyalty to Prussia far surpassed Ludwig's liking for him. He could do virtually nothing to prevent their love for each other, but he could do what was most favorable to him, and that was to keep them apart.

"The fire has burned out."

Roderich averted his gaze and found that it was true. Grease of the candles was guttering down the sides, it was dark. He understood that Ludwig's words were an oblique reference to the lateness of the hour. On this hint, he resolved to leave.

"In that case I won't inflict my company on you any longer. It was foolish of me to come here." He added in a somewhat lower voice.

Upon that, he stood and ungainly walked out, leaving the blond to mourn silently.

Ludwig didn't even gaze after him.

He rose, took a step, two steps, but sat anew.

He was so sick at heart that he could barely move. He felt rejected and humiliated. Hurt and offended.

Another bitter pill that he had to swallow this month. One problem after another landed in his lap. After Roderich's departure, he felt a powerful regret. The words he had said assumed even more power in his mind. They seemed to weigh on him more and more; he was shaken by their implications. The subtle sense of suspicion and dread seized Ludwig's mind. It was time to put an end to his fond hopes—a discovery of his doings meant not only a loss of reputation. He was pure and chaste in Gilbert's eyes. He dreaded to think what his brother would do if he were to find out.

His head was swimming.

Fortune scourged him again, and expressed her hostility by toying with him now when he latterly seemed to have returned to normal. It seemed like he was fated to suffer.

Isolated in his despair, he sat limply, careworn, broken by misery, wracked with guilt.

Some words would have been better left for silence.

His solitude was broken by tapping. He heard the door open and close, and a moment later Gilbert was beside him. His hand flew to his side—the box wasn't there, thank God!

Ludwig didn't bring tea to his brother's room that night, and he came to seek him out.

Gilbert's eyes wandered over Ludwig's sickly-white face bathing in the glow of the embers in the grate.

Impulsively, Ludwig faced the opposite direction.

Gilbert wished he could do something to remove that crease between his furrowed brows.

"Ludwig, what makes you so morose?" He spoke in smooth tones. "Come, a cup of hot tea will lift your spirits."

The Prussian seated himself by his side.

Tears, blinding tears, burned in his eyes. His pale complexion grew richer in hue. Robbed of his pride, Ludwig parted his lips and turned to him, but slowly—everything was happening so slowly, it seemed time would come to a halt and the world itself would stop turning. He stood still for few quiet moments, searing words wouldn't come out of his mouth.

He would have to deal with the problems facing him, but first… first—

He threw himself into the arms of the nation which has caused all his sorrows.

Ludwig's broken sob was a stab through Gilbert's heart.

Ludwig hid his face in the folds and ruffs of Gilbert's high-standing collar as if he was trying escape and hide from an assassin. After his first flush of embarrassment has died, he spread Gilbert's vest and pressed his cheek below his very heart, hiding again in the soft linen of his shirt. If he could just stay there for a decade, for an eternity, curled up under his heart, in his warmth and protection, there where he was shielded from all evil.

Gilbert threaded his fingers through the blond hair and tried to tilt his head up to face him, but Ludwig shook his head with determination, hiding against his chest stubbornly.

This disobedience he accepted.

He embraced Ludwig to hold him tightly to his breast, pressed him more closely to his body. He crooned, voice soft and low, like murmuring tenderly to a sleepy child while he sheltered him in his arms. Ludwig felt him stroke soothingly up and down his back as he rocked them upon the sofa in a gentle sway, like he used to.

Gilbert breathed something into his ear; there was a strange magic in his simple words. He felt well-protected and guarded in his arms, so comforting was his embrace.

He didn't know how long their silent clasp lasted, how long Gilbert's hand continued to lace through his hair.

"Let me look at you."

Ludwig choked on his demand. He tried to nuzzle himself into his chest further, shaking his head in sorrow at Gilbert's entreat.

The intensity of this emotion startled him—he winced like a wounded animal.

Great blue eyes watched Gilbert, brimming with tears. He was sure he looked like an effete little weakling in his brother's eyes. The thought hurt him.

Gilbert didn't speak again. Instead, he caressed along the arch of Ludwig's cheekbone with his knuckles, lay a kiss on Ludwig's forehead, and on his right cheek. His cooing murmur, the velvety touch of his lips that passed over his brow, a puff of warm breath on his forehead—all made Ludwig's heart race.

He would die for a kiss on the lips.

'_Lord, let him love me as I love him.'_

Ludwig's thoughts gnawed at his heart while he followed up the small visible patch of Gilbert's white throat. His thoughts were led to a new, but familiar direction. He had a sudden desire to kiss him, to reach out to his platinum-blond hair and wrap his hands in it. His feelings were running amok.

He dragged his eyes away from Gilbert's, but his brother pressed him earnestly again. Ludwig was docile and so easy to control at the moment that Gilbert coaxed him to lie on the sofa with no difficulty. Gilbert leaned back, supine with Ludwig in safety.

They spent some time in humble silence.

"I make a comical sight, no doubt." Ludwig's chin was nuzzled into his brother's chest as he spoke, but the words were still distinguishable. Gilbert didn't answer and he stole a glance at the Prussian. The gaze revealed to him worry and other subtle emotions he couldn't recognize.

They remained thus for a long time, and when Gilbert entangled himself from his embrace to replenish fire, Ludwig was almost asleep.

He could feel the imprint of his brother's kiss on his cheek before his silence spirited the Prussian out of the room. His heart screamed out for him in something that was longing or love, or both, but he couldn't speak.

When loneliness stretched its gloom over him, he sat up, looking blankly around his staid bedroom.

He fostered no hope anymore.

The stage was set for Ludwig's hardest challenge—to avoid the temptation to give in to desire again in order to help himself.

In low spirits, he approached his bed to lie down dully, with Gilbert's kiss on his cheek.

He crept onto the mattress and spent one of the loneliest nights of his life there.

_**To Be Continued…**_

**A/N: You are not angry at me, right? Right? **

**The last part is 90% finished. It'll follow quickly!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Beta'd by raecat**

**A/N: Gosh, I know I've exhausted you with Ludwig's inner chaos, but all this time I really wanted you to **_**feel**_** his despair. Please enjoy...**

**- Chapter 7 -**

Lust.

Lust, vulgar and raw, was gaining possession of him. It buried its claws into his weak body, slowly ripping him apart in a most frightful manner.

Of all the variety of miseries that had to this day befallen Ludwig, this one was the cruelest. Out of all sorrows, a fresh one arose—torture went from bad to worse.

There was no recuperative hope anymore. His heart was forlorn, but his body was so hungry, starving for love and touch. Lust has won him over. He let his body rule his head. He couldn't leave it off now, it was his only comfort.

Almost a month has glided away since he last loved Gilbert's body, seven miserable days have went by since Roderich's words became a persistent burden in his life. Seven days of fitful sleep, of lacking appetite, of inner turmoil. Waiting brought only more despair, not a glimpse of hope. Ironically, the silent suffering, separation and distance from Gilbert only showed him how much the nightly visits meant to him. His resistance was gradually seeping away.

He did make a strong attempt to control himself, but he lost a heroic fight against the violent passion that had seized him.

The tension of so many days has found vent at last. Ludwig's attempts to contain his desire for Prussia now seemed weak at best. His self-esteem has sunk so low. He rued the day he has started this.

The universe was still hostile; it toyed with him in the form of lust, _raw_ lust that amounted to agony. He began to realize that this might be his only hope.

Ludwig threaded through the room like a ghost, a passion's slave, servile to carnal desire.

Every second prolonged his misery. Misery that only loneliness could devise.

The chance of Gilbert waking up wasn't faint, and this thwarted his plans. He was at a disadvantage. The last few drops of the sedative he used could easily wear off at any time. It was a blow to his confidence. He knew he would have to tread carefully, unless he wanted to make this a preliminary to the greatest mistake he has made.

He worked hard to subdue his impatience, but he was tossed around by waves of lust—he was weak, so weak under the passion that drove him desperate; he was teetering on the brink of a break down.

The young nation crawled over the bed, his loose sleepwear clung now to his shoulder-blades, now to his chest, according to how he bent or leaned. The feel of cotton against his skin irritated him; he tugged it up and let it pool in his palms before pulling the cloth off in a single motion. He tossed the nightgown away instead of folding it, keeping only the jar of lubricant to himself.

When he lay a kiss right on Gilbert's lips, he couldn't tell if the kiss pleased him or not. He let his tongue flick over his lips, parting them, but Gilbert would never respond—he pulled himself off. Too eager to think now, he unbuttoned the shirt and fastened his lips on Gilbert's pale-pink nipple, sucking it erect. His free hand wandered to the other one where he spread his palm over the taut pectoral, feeling the little nub become erect already. He gave a pinch, then wandered far south, still sucking on the nipple in his mouth like a newborn, grinding his growing erection into the sheets below.

Already swollen lips then followed the path that his hand had ventured, and he hastened to unbuckle his brother's breeches with an impatient movement of his fingers.

His heart was out of control.

An insignificant amount of the lube he used to spread on his own member, eliciting a low moan as ripples of pleasure washed over him. Glazed blue eyes followed the familiar contours of Gilbert's torso while he slicked his hard shaft, stroking himself slowly. He was more aroused and needy than he ever recalled.

The chest he was admiring heaved in a sigh, giving him a startle.

Ludwig's fears started to get the best of him for a moment. Some sane traces in his mind knew that these actions might awaken Gilbert, and the very idea made him sick to his stomach.

His courage arose from his great lust. Eroding his fear for need, he began to stroke himself again.

Come what may.

He was helpless against the might of his desire. The roaring fire of his lust allowed him to carry on with the work unhindered. He kissed his way down Gilbert's abdomen and knelt astride over his thighs, straddling him. After he bent face downward and supported his torso with his forearms, he found himself on the same level with Gilbert's cock, flaccid and waiting for him, for his lick and touch.

He carried out his task with dispatch. Hand around his base, caressed by the pale, feathery curls, pumping in earnest.

Ludwig felt that he was rushing the job, but there was no time for idle pleasures.

He ran his tongue along the underside of his head, but he was amazed and baffled to find that Gilbert's cock sprung alive with merely few touches.

Ludwig applied a lavish amount of lube, coating his entire member with the slippery substance. He then settled his weight on one elbow and sought balance, holding Gilbert's cock clasped in one hand, and with the other he reached behind him. His erection gave a lively twitch when he slipped a finger between his cheeks to spread them, prodding around to smear the cool lubricant. He licked his lips like a starving hound, slick fingers pushing against his hole and pushing through the tight ring of muscles. Another digit joined and he twisted and turned them, scissoring them deep inside, but he only barely managed to brush his prostrate, whimpering. He tried to peek up at Gilbert's face, but with the best will in the world he wasn't able to supervise him all the time. His face constricted, he lifted his body up a bit to drive his probing fingers deeper inside, working himself into a state of utter excitement.

Unwilling to wait any longer, he sat up, his buttocks resting just over the sleeping nation's groin. He lifted himself on his knees and held Gilbert steady—in a smooth but slow motion he seated himself down, tensing with complete beatitude and bliss. When the supple flesh of his bottom pressed against Gilbert's crotch firmly, he seized his brother's unresponsive hand and plunged it down between his legs. He laced their fingers and curled Gilbert's around his tight balls, maneuvering him like a marionette.

The pleasant assault of pleasure set his nerves ablaze.

He spread his legs wide apart and let go of his hand, just sitting atop with Gilbert sheathed deep inside him. As he looked down his own hard shaft was standing upright, creamy pearls of pre-come trickled down his fury-red head, teasing him.

Head up, hips down, consumed by desire, he lifted and let himself sink onto the hard cock anew, satisfied. So satisfied. It felt like it had always belonged there, impaled firmly inside him, stretching him, stretching his pleasure to a ravenous intensity.

He started off a brisk pace, lively and vigorous, in a tight race with the time.

His body glided with expertise, a warm glow of satisfaction overwhelmed him while he worked adamantly, his mind an incoherent mess of blurred images and bliss. He became ferocious with dipping and lifting, covered in a sheen of sweat.

Quickened breaths climbed in pitch.

A familiar tightening in the loins sent a warning to Ludwig just before an orgasm rocked through him, slow and gentle, leaving him unsatisfied. His body still craved for more.

He spread his thighs lewdly, but his muscles couldn't cope with the strain. After the post-orgasmic glow dwindled he gave in, sprawling himself over Gilbert's body with the greatest care. His body refused to listen for one whole minute and he lay there, clenching and unclenching around Gilbert's erection. With some power gathered, he shifted to push his hips up and ride his brother again. The lying position rewarded him with shallow penetration, but more friction. He set his pelvis in a steady motion, thrusting down and up the rock-hard shaft with all his might, again, and again, and again, with no regards to his protesting muscles.

His own erection was rubbing against his brother's taut abdomen steadily, sweaty skin smacked against Gilbert's, sending him into a fitful shudder that elicited a breathy whimper from his throat.

He sensed the chest below him heave again. Fear started to torment him in the midst of his delight.

Ludwig rose and changed the angle, a yet another spasm seized him when the meaty head of Gilbert's cock pressed his swelled prostrate dead-on.

He quickened the pace, wiping his forehead where his hair clung to it.

Bounce after bounce, a never-ending cycle of carnal ecstasy. Tides, waves, a whole sea of pleasure. His mouth twisted in a silent moan while his hips worked, his body was floating, he was so close… so close…

For a moment, Gilbert felt how his chest constricted. He couldn't exactly make out what was happening. There was a weight pressing down his groin, a fast lift, weight again, pushing up and down relentlessly.

He was enveloped by heat, such delightful and delicious heat, a blissful pressure on his cock. His body was burning entirely, and then freezing.

Scarlet eyes opened, but, blinded with pleasure for an instant, he couldn't clear his vision.

Gilbert discerned familiar features through the haze after a few confusing moments.

He almost had to remind his heart to beat again. Shock sealed his lips.

Staring with rapt attention at Ludwig's naked glory, he drank in the sight, his smiting beauty. His head thrown back in orgasmic bliss, milky-white neck exposed, pale features contorted in the most exquisite pleasure while a thick moan rose deep from his throat. His pelvis was caught in a gyrating dance with his cock, inner walls clinging to it while his body devoured each aftershock coursing through his nerves.

The warm tickle of Ludwig's sticky essence pooling on his abdomen and navel tore him from the paralyzing daze he was in—he caught hold of his brother and held his wrist rigid.

A sharp gasp—all movements ceased.

Large, frightful eyes looked down into his in mortification.

Gilbert found it impossible to express the dread and terror he saw on Ludwig's face. Horror put the blond into a cold sweat.

The silence was terrifying.

Ludwig never realized how painful heartbeats could be.

Stiff, still caught in an expression of utter dismay, Ludwig's features grew ghastly, deadly pale. He couldn't hear a thing, nor see anything.

For a moment Gilbert feared that Ludwig might experience a heart-attack any second.

"_Ludwig_?" He asked with a small quaver.

Ludwig was far from responding.

His lips tried to shape some words, but nothing came out. Paleness gave place to a glow of shame.

The dread day has arrived.

It would be ridiculous to cover himself now. He was the one riding Gilbert.

Dead-still, he awaited the full lash of his brother's tongue. Whatever Gilbert fancied to do with him, his punishment would be deserved.

Gilbert took Ludwig's other unresponsive hand and pulled him down.

Ludwig repressed a sob, but his breath hitched, betraying him, tears choked him. In humiliation, words expressive of the utmost shame started spilling from his lips.

"I feel so utterly ashamed, and filthy, and—and…" Words died away on his tongue.

Gilbert dismissed his words of contrition entirely, keeping the blond's head wedged between his neck and shoulder until Ludwig's dry sobs were reduced to catching gasps at intervals.

"Don't forsake me, brother." Ludwig forced himself to say, "Forgive me, I have sinned against you—what's done cannot be undone." Trembling in shame, he faltered an apology. He tried to dry his eyes and his running nose, but Gilbert held him against his shoulder, still.

He broke away from his hold and rose on his hands with the most rueful look on his face. This was no occasion for a bitter reproach.

"Despise me if you wish, but don't judge me—"

"_Despise_ you? Never."

Ludwig had expected an outburst of anger, a strike, a blow, everything but this. Amazed at his reply, he felt a gush of rapture sweep through his very being, a wild hope that Gilbert could be interested in him. He couldn't trace signs of revolt or revulsion on his face.

"_Why have you not told me_?" The Prussian wondered, voice thick with emotion.

"What could have I told you? That I want you? That I worship your body in this abominable manner? That I love you more than a brother?"

He opened his soul to say what he had never had the opportunity to express, sparing himself nothing. This he spoke so earnestly that Gilbert's voice almost broke when he spoke.

"How long?"

"Ten months."

"Oh God…" Gilbert shook his head while he frantically tried to comprehend and grasp the full implications of his words. "Why didn't you tell me…?"

"How could have I known of your feelings?" Ludwig asked in the most dejected and dispirited voice. "I cannot mend it through regret. I beg for your forgiveness."

"What should I forgive you?" Gilbert wondered, incredulous. _Lord_, how long has he wanted Ludwig. He should be the one begging forgiveness.

"My cowardice, brother. Don't look at me so, I am not ashamed of my tears."

"I can never forgive you the pain you have caused yourself. I cannot forgive you that you haven't told me earlier." Gilbert didn't know what to do with his hands, his arms. He left them where they fell, at his sides limply, eyes on Ludwig who covered his face with palms. "I should have done so myself. The fault is mine as it's yours."

Ludwig dried his eyes and left them close, hid them with his hands. Words continued to swell in his chest. Power and warmth. And happiness. It felt too good to be real.

"Are you not mad at me for lying?" He whispered, but not quite meeting his eyes.

"When I see you in distress I forget myself."

Ludwig wanted to tell him that these past months have been an agony. Too many questions inside him were fighting to come out, but neither would become a winner.

Gilbert spared him the trouble by putting his hand on the base of his neck to pull him in and kissed his quivering lips. Ludwig responded with spirit. The Prussian ended it all to early, to speak.

"Can you imagine for how long I have yearned to do this?" Gilbert whispered against his lips, chest heaving, "Can you imagine how much I longed for you and desired you?"

_'My own desire was as strong.'_ Ludwig wanted to whisper back. Words failed him again. His mind was plunged into joyous cries of liberty, his heart paralyzed with relief and happiness.

Gilbert pressed his lips against him again. One kiss would never be enough. He devoured him with kisses. Flush against each other, Gilbert's tongue tangled with his between their entwined mouths for the first time, and Ludwig's heart gave a cheerful leap—his abdomen tightened with desire, there was no denying that he was aroused again. His fingers dug into his brother's shoulders, he gave a needy moan after Gilbert wound him tight, tighter, supple lips meshed with his. The lust was crushing. A rush of hormones and Ludwig couldn't fight anymore; he let Gilbert's tongue move past his lips into his mouth, claiming him fiercely. He left him panting when they broke apart.

The blond made a halt for a moment—this was Gilbert. _His_ Gilbert. And he was allowed to touch him.

They faced each other, hot, hearts thumping.

Ludwig was now intensively aware of his body, of _their_ bodies, and he remembered absurdly that Gilbert was still inside him. The Prussian passed down his spine, and in an instant his calloused hands were on the supple mounds of his buttocks, squeezing in earnest. Ludwig let himself relax into the touch, gasping hot against his collarbone. Gilbert's erection was swollen and hard inside him. He was reeling with a renewal of lust.

"_Ludwig_." His voice grew husky and heavy. The words stung Ludwig into action.

"_Ja…_" He breathed, latched onto the same idea as his brother. In another flare of lust, he sunk his teeth in Gilbert's neck on instinct, getting a satisfied groan in reward. Gilbert threaded his fingers in his hair and with slight pressure tilted his head up at a more convenient angle, kissing him. He tried to fend off the perverse fantasy of Ludwig riding him, but it only whetted his sexual appetite. Eager, he pried his fingers away from Ludwig's hair to his hips and ventured a suggestive thrust up, heart thudding madly in his chest.

His action sent sparks of pleasure racing up Ludwig's nerves, a warm flush radiated through his skin. Gilbert's intention was in sympathy with his wishes, but not the method.

"Not like this." Ludwig pleaded. He longed for so long to try something different. Gilbert took the hint.

Gilbert had barely slipped out of him when he felt his stern hands grab hold of his legs to twist him over onto the back in one move. Ludwig toppled to the side with Gilbert looming over him, a sly grin on his handsome features. He almost shuddered in anticipation.

An astonishing sight then arrested Ludwig's attention.

He was stunned to learn that Gilbert's shaft has grown bigger—bigger than he had ever gotten him in his sleep. The Prussian enveloped his massive erection in a steady grip, as if to show what was about to hammer him. Ludwig made a quiet little noise in the back of his throat, dying to get his hands around it and guide him inside.

What Ludwig couldn't manage in his great excitement Gilbert did, slowly so that he wouldn't hurt him, but Ludwig was full of verve and he was able to easily slide inside his loosening orifice.

Ludwig gave a gasp, a moan, and other sultry noises he wasn't aware of, pushing himself back against Gilbert to feel the angle of penetration he had never felt before. His lips dropped open, broken begs spilling from his mouth, and Gilbert obeyed and followed his lead—he settled his weight on Ludwig, angled his body, thrust a little deeper, a little harder, a little faster; there were black spots in his vision again. He held Ludwig's hands down against the mattress, thrusting so slow and deep that it had Ludwig arching up into him to hasten his rhythm.

He tried to make him pick up the pace, but to no avail. Gilbert was much stronger than he was.

It seemed like Gilbert was trying to weigh up what he had missed all these months while he looked down to admire the view of his cock glistening from lubricant and plunging to the hilt inside his brother. He was enchanted.

Ludwig let out a wanton moan when his begging shaft was enveloped in a strong grip of Gilbert's large hand; his hand was now free, but his efforts were still hamstrung by Gilbert's weight which restricted his movements. His brother has caged him to the mattress and he couldn't repress a groan at another failed attempt to buck up. With his free hand he reached for Gilbert to pull him in and seal their lips, their tongues mating desperately.

The Prussian gave a vehement thrust at last.

He started a smart pace, plowing Ludwig from every position and every possible angle. A deep feeling of lust trickled down Ludwig's spine, he offered no resistance and Gilbert shot straight in and out. To his misfortune he couldn't get the depth Ludwig was hoping for because his thighs kept blocking Gilbert's hips. He wrapped his legs around his brother who continued to mount him from above from his kneeling position. With some difficulty, Ludwig locked his heels over Gilbert's back and drove him deep into his body, to the hilt and deeper.

Gilbert's untiring thrusts didn't desist. He was taken by his brother in the wildest fashion; his great strength seemed to sit stronger upon him than ever before.

The angle was fantastic, maddening. Ludwig struggled for every breath.

Gilbert went harder, faster, with each ferocious thrust he was swathed in the welcoming heat of his brother's body, his face twisted in the most incredible expression of bliss Ludwig has ever seen. He could have watched him forever, if it wasn't for his body wanting release and stars that exploded in front of his eyes when Gilbert dipped to trace the shell of his ear with his warm tongue.

"_Ludwig_—" Gilbert croaked out helplessly as he reached his apogee, shaken by a delirious orgasm. Just hearing his name shoved Ludwig to the brink of a climax as well. Two bodies were grinding on each other in frenzy. Gilbert filled him with his essence while he rode the last aftershocks out, a truly satisfied look on his face.

Ludwig's heart felt overly full.

Lying boneless with Gilbert at his side, basking in another post-orgasmic glow, attentive to the gentle aftershocks that still coursed through his body, thinking.

Fortune has deceived him. It felt like falling off a wild rearing horse which landed on its hoofs seconds before you were to tumble into an abyss.

Gilbert shifted, on his side facing him, and lifted his brother's hand from the mattress to lay his lips upon it. Ludwig felt redeemed by just this simple kiss; it left absolute mental liberty. He was neither a rapist nor was his love unrequited.

Tears of immense relief, of happiness and catharsis stung his eyes.

"Tell me your story," Gilbert mumbled into the pillow. "Tell me everything."

Ludwig was plied with questions and poured his heart out to his brother. Only after his confession was finished and Gilbert's questions exhausted did he look at him. The two of them stared at each other for a long while before Gilbert captured his lips in a peck and released them with a soft smacking noise. Ludwig wanted this kiss every morning, every night, every hour.

"It's no one's fault." Gilbert wanted to say, but all he managed was a whisper.

Ludwig would like to find someone to blame for all his past misery.

**- The End -**

**A/N: Finished! Thanks to all who supported this story - after all, a few words always say best what you think of it.**

**I already said that I'm interested and willing to write a ****sequel**** (smuty and with no direct influence on the main plot), but I need the readers' approval. A sequel is a cherry on top, but if you don't like cherries do tell me. I don't want to spoil the story for you, guys.**

**Quickly: Yes or No? **

**There's a poll on my profile if you're too shy.**


	8. The Past Is Gone

**Warning: sex, detailed oral sex, and sap/fluff/sentimentality (or however you wish to call it)**

**A/N: First, I must say I wrote this sequel looooong ago. And I'm sorry for not posting it earlier, my exams just finished too, and I decided to post it unbeta'd at last.**

**Secondly, I know some didn't want a sequel (I respect and understand that), and you are free to skip it – you won't miss anything important if you do so. To the rest of you (if you still remember what the story is about, haha) I wish an enjoyable read… (this is just a little break from all the drama)**

**- The Past Is Gone -**

"Charming."

The sight was indeed charming.

"_Hurry_!"

"Don't rush me—"

Prussia's senses perked up. He struggled to prolong that sweetest state of half-consciousness before rousing, while bits of surreal imagery still thread through one's mind. His attempts were thwarted by the soft hum of talk which doggedly tried his patience.

The realization dawned that he wasn't alone, dispersing his dreams entirely.

Giving no sign or sound until he was certain of human presence, he paid attention to the fragments of conversation. The maids were astir early as usual. He cracked open an eye and caught them huddled together in a tightly packed group alongside the bed—all but one, for she was crouching before them with her knees bent and her thighs resting on her calves. His gaze brought their quiet chatter to an abrupt end; unaware of his scrutiny, only the crouching maid was furiously drawing away the sight of two nations in an amatory embrace while rays of gold shone upon their sleeping form.

It was the first time and also the last that Gilbert ever saw them bliss out in his presence.

Scarlet eyes flitted across their befuddled faces; the crouching girl loomed over her work so that her frilly headband slanted off her head, almost falling off. The swishing over the sheet of paper didn't end. He uncoiled his arm from Ludwig's waist and bade her give him the picture. Taken aback, the maid handed it with a twinkle of guilt in her eye, but her apology sounded too far-fetched even to her own ears. Gilbert shook his head, yet a smile twitched at his lips as he continued to inspect the charcoal sketching of himself and Ludwig sleeping together in a tight clasp. He was almost swept along by their enthusiasm.

"Later you may nag me. Now do your duty and then be gone."

His whisper hustled them out of the room, and, with the sketch in their possession again, they managed to jostle their way through the door.

Gilbert pulled at the spread bed-curtains until the sunlight was peering in only through the chink between the silk damasks, then propped his head up on his elbow. He felt a pang of disappointment—Ludwig was not sprawled naked on his bed as he would have wanted it, but covered with the down duvet up to his neck. Seeing only a pale hand peek from under the covers, Gilbert hitched up the cuffs faced with velvet over his exposed wrist before tugging the quilt over it to tuck him in.

An army of thoughts was marching through his mind. Countless questions. So many things have been left unsaid.

Gilbert studied his brother, drinking in his youth, every angle of his face. Carving it to his memory. His own complexion was almost powder-white, but Ludwig's skin was like porcelain. Bright golden locks were framing his serene face. No crease. No gloom. The little upward lift in the middle of his top lip was diverting Gilbert's attention, enchanting him. His fingers disappeared in Ludwig's tousled hair, running over his scalp.

He had long stopped building his dolorous dreams.

He had hoped, craved, _prayed_, that Germany would someday be his. Heavy shame has up to yesterday weighted upon him. No longer was he forced to hanker after someone he couldn't have.

So much good luck had his head in a whirl.

He tucked a strand of golden hair behind his brother's ear and carried on, lightly working his way over the outer fold with his fingertips. Only after he had run his little finger along the soft crease behind his ear did Ludwig shift in sleep, shuffling up on the pillow to get more comfortable.

Gilbert decided against telling him of their little visit earlier to spare him a mindful of difficulties that lay ahead. He could think of quite a number of people who openly opposed a bond of this nature between two nations—between Prussia and Young Germany in particular.

Ludwig began to stir, rousing slowly from his rest.

He gave a lethargic half-yawn before venturing an endeavor to roll on the opposite side, right into Gilbert arms. Scarlet met baby blue.

Gilbert has expected a lot. But not this.

Ludwig awoke with a gasp. He lurched up, doe-eyed like a frightened deer, staring wildly at the albino and his surroundings, his heart thudding.

"Forgive my sin against you—I'd rather be dead than have you despise me." Ludwig stuttered out while his baffled mind was trying to comprehend what was happening.

Gilbert's soul, his very self, was splintering at the sorrow etched on Ludwig's face: his sense of guilt has not vanished in the light of the morning. He was still mired in shame.

A sense of calm and clarity slowly came over the blond and he fell quiet and subdued for a few moments, as if trying to comprehend the gravity of the last night.

"I have betrayed my feelings at last..."

Gilbert silenced him with a kiss he would never grow weary of.

The kiss lingered for a while, then changed tempo, and Gilbert pressed him down, shifting on top, advancing slowly towards the desire of his heart. Ludwig pushed against his touches, demanding more. His heart gave a huge throb—it was no longer writhing in agony. The more Gilbert took, the more he offered to him, kissing back with emotions that had no name. It felt right. It felt superb.

"Brother…" He breathed, cheek nuzzled into Gilbert's neck, "I pray you will let me call you so even if I have angered you by lying. I have no one else but you." Gilbert's weight on him felt _so good_. He closed his eyes, hoping to freeze that moment in time. "I was so exposed to temptation, brother. I clung onto you like a poor wretch, in ways you cannot imagine."

Gilbert tried shush him and put an end to his impromptu confessions, but Ludwig resumed apologizing for past indiscretions.

"I reached my limits—I couldn't anymore. I've had enough of that torturous charade."

"The shame is not yours. It belongs to me as well."

Gilbert's voice could heal the deepest wounds. Ludwig fell silent, tightening his arms around the Prussian with desperate pressure.

Strong. Warm. _His_.

He never thought this day would come.

"The past is gone. Let us start afresh."

He wanted to weep and laugh with happiness.

Gilbert luxuriously stretched himself out beside the younger blond and, as if tied to him, Ludwig followed, latching onto his brother in the same way he has done many nights before. His head on his brother's shoulder, he caught the corners of Gilbert's mouth rising up. His beam was contagious. In a flush of excitement, Ludwig's own lips curved up in a smile, much to Gilbert's delight. The smile was reluctant to leave his face and stayed there for a while as he watched the Knight's Cross that lay amidst the whiteness of Gilbert's collarbone. Enraptured in a daydream, blue eyes darted up after the albino picked up the hand resting on his chest and titled his chin up to kiss the inside vein of Ludwig's wrist.

"I've longed for only one thing on this bleak world—for you to be mine."

Every fiber of Ludwig's being wanted to cry out his love. Gilbert loved him back; all else was history.

A blithe air of buoyancy hovered over them and they reposed together as if they have done it a thousand times before. Ludwig missed how his brother's mouth formed a salacious grin.

"What have you been doing to me while I slept?"

Nuzzled deep into Gilbert's neck, two light brows formed a quick frown. Ludwig was rather unenthusiastic about this topic, not wanting to revisit painful memories.

"I have told you last night." He murmured, hesitant.

"Can you refresh my memory?" Gilbert teased in a tone that sent Ludwig's blood rushing to his groin. The Prussian suddenly felt that he has been cheated out of a great experience. The thought of Ludwig enjoying his body was stroking his ego still. While he waited for a reply, Gilbert drew closer the tray that maids have left on his commode to pour himself a cup of tea. He brought the cup with a teaspoon of honey to his lips, fully aware of Ludwig's eyes following him.

"You drink tea even in the morning?"

"It's your fault I drink more tea than beer." He gave a bark of a laughter. "I swear to almighty Fritz — I'm worse than that Brit."

"My apologies…I could try to atone for my misdeeds if you would let me." He proffered a suggestion. While Gilbert stirred the honey into his tea and sipped on it, Ludwig was getting up the nerve to ask, probably choosing the worst timing for his proposal.

"I would like to fellate you."

Gilbert sputtered profusely.

Ludwig had expressed the wish to suck him off, and he couldn't possibly refuse the generous offer.

Gilbert draped himself over an arm-chair, his legs spread open in a typical male pose, smirking archly. His member was stirring at the mere sight of Ludwig kneeling before him with a healthy amount of pink coloring his cheeks. He widened his stance, letting the younger blond pitch his body forward to imprint a kiss upon the bulge in his unbuttoned breeches. Ludwig's hands worked independently of his conscience, peeling and revealing all that stood in his way. Gilbert reveled in the agony of anticipation while Ludwig peppered his abdomen, his hips and the junction to his thighs with soft, wet kisses in a tormenting pace, sweeping his mouth everywhere but on the part that ached most for his attention.

A shiver passed through his body when Ludwig brought his mouth down until the shaft was underneath his chin, just far enough to let him think that maybe, hopefully, he would keep going and take him in, but he stopped short of his hardness and his tongue ventured a curving path, between his thigh and crotch, lavishing the tender path there with attention instead. Was it possible that he has missed ten months of this heaven? Could it really be that Ludwig has practiced this on him for so long? What a blind fool he has been.

Far from the first time in his life, Ludwig curled his fingers around the base of Gilbert's manhood, tightened them, raising his favorite toy upwards and sliding his foreskin back to expose the thick, purplish head, without engulfing him just yet. Gilbert could feel Ludwig's breath across his fully erect cock before the blond moved in for a closer lick, brushing the swollen head against his moist lips. He teased Gilbert with a couple of kisses, intent on his work, attentive to the first pearls of pre-come that trickled down the glans, forcing his heart to thump in glee.

Azure eyes then seduced Gilbert's attention. He felt an impulse, a sudden wish, to have Ludwig watch him as he sucked him off and called him with a moan—shy eyes darted up questioningly.

Ludwig made a shrewd guess and puzzled out his brother's wish, urging himself to hold the gaze while he drew his tongue along his rigid shaft, laving it over the bulging veins, then flicking from the very base up to the top and guiding the shaft into his mouth at last. Gilbert felt another shudder wash over his body, the grip around his base grew tighter, the warm muscle prodded at his slit to taste the salty drops, swirling around the whole head, flicking and rolling—the Prussian felt the blood slowly leaving his upper body.

Ludwig gave his cock a squeeze that made him thrust up a bit, a primal, growling noise slipped past his lips when the blond turned his head sideways, as if to take a bite of him, gently setting his teeth into the rigid flesh, scraping them over the velvety skin, pulling up.

Gilbert let his body appease the euphoria that has peaked for a split second while Ludwig's tongue darted out again to lap at the bead of pre-come glistening on the tip, right before he closed his lips around it to create a gentle suction, gliding up and down without losing the vacuum.

"_Yes_—keep playing with my flute…" The husky entreat stopped Ludwig in mid-suck and he let the engorged head pop out with an obscenely wet noise, looking up.

"Pardon?"

Gilbert answered with a merry laugh and he gave a scowl, but continued mouthing him with the utmost care, with finesse acquired solely through practice. Experience bred confidence. He took few inches, just past the coated head, then plunged down to swathe him as deep into his throat as he could and—

"_Gods_!" Gilbert snapped his hips, teeth clenched, imprisoning another moan caught deep in his throat. A little curving of Ludwig's mouth grew into a smile. He let his muscles go slack, but stiffened his tongue to massage down the underside of Gilbert's shaft, sliding as far down as he felt comfortable. Even past his gag reflex he moved, and Gilbert watched how his cock disappeared into the wet mouth until Ludwig's nose was buried in silvery tangle of hair, his breathing doubled. Gilbert's heady, individual, familiar scent filled Ludwig's lungs after he took a breath, charging him with lust. His brother was so thick in his mouth, his own shaft gave a twitch, his skin on fire.

For a split second he feared that Gilbert might clamp a hand on his head to push him further, but the Prussian had his hands on the armrest, clawing at the plush, lost at the blissful sensory overload.

Ludwig eased him out of his mouth entirely to nuzzle his hardness, wetting his cheek and jaw, honoring it with a lick at a time. Everything possessive in Gilbert roared with pride and satisfaction while Ludwig fleshed out his deepest fantasies. Blue eyes he had long deemed innocent now revered him with high esteem and respect, his tongue treated his length with the deepest admiration, and the ways in which he lavished his member with love made his ego boost to new heights.

He skimmed his fingertips over Ludwig's cheekbone and advanced toward his hair, petting; Ludwig averted his gaze.

Head bent, hot breath feathering across the shaft in his hand, Ludwig quickly ran his tongue over his swollen lips with frail hopes of hiding the heat that bit by bit engulfed his cheeks. His tongue smacked against his teeth, mouth watering to taste his brother again. He let his fingers twiddle around the leaking head to daub the residual moisture, missing the feel of Gilbert's hardness sliding over his tongue. Following on from where he left off, he pushed the length past his mouth, lips tight around him, and fed his cock into his mouth with gusto. A shallow start was launched, before he increased the depth by degrees.

Gilbert's breathing turned into soft panting.

Ludwig couldn't get enough of him in his mouth to satisfy himself, and he couldn't blame it solely on the hormones and his youth.

The former knight murmured a mantra of endearments to encourage him, but he didn't need any encouragement. His eyelids closed before he moaned around the marble-hard glory in his mouth, sending a tingle straight through the Prussian's groin and to his sac. Gilbert was thankful for the small mercy of having something to sit on, for he felt quite weak in the knees. Pleasure gave way to ecstasy as Ludwig bobbed his head, tight lips moving down his shaft in deliberate and methodical swallows, claiming every inch as his. The blond worked his throat loose and started off deep-throating him a few times, swallowing the whole length, all the way to his brother's fair bush that was prickling his lips.

Ludwig stopped humping the pillow under his knees and brought his hips to a standstill, palming his own bulge before a fleeting withdrawal. He swept up a string of saliva dribbling down his chin with a whisk of his hand and wiped it on the pants. His palms traveled down Gilbert's spread thighs, up to his powerful pelvis, then down to his neglected balls. Gilbert's muscles were all constricted and taut in anticipation. Ludwig let his palm drift lower to cup him—a gentle caress, a light tug, a squeeze— and the Prussian was rendered helpless anew. Ludwig weighted the new experiences against the old ones and knew—there was nothing to compare. It was so much different, so much better than before: the secret sinning was an agony, this was bliss decanted into reality. The sound of Gilbert's labored breathing was Orphic melody, his expression twisted in pleasure a painting beautiful beyond compare.

Keeping his head between his palms, Gilbert would every so often give him a little push, twiddling unconsciously with the strands of blond that spilled through his fingers while Ludwig kept himself busy, his hands and mouth full of cock once again. When the albino felt the pressure building he succumbed to the temptation and grasped the back of Ludwig's head, his hips shot forward to drive his hardness into the waiting, wet mouth deeper, eager to disappear in that heat entirely. As soon as Ludwig felt him tense, his sac scrunch up in his fingers, he came up for breath, leaving the Prussian bucking up into the cold air with a piteous whine. He resumed a vice grip on his shaft and picked up speed, stroking his thick length, faster, in a rhythm Gilbert was aching for.

It was time to reap the reward for his good work.

Intoxicated with pleasure, Gilbert rocked his hips into the unrelenting pressure, his thrusts faster, shorter.

The younger German put his mouth to a good use again and swirled on the glans with his tongue, letting the swollen head run along the bumpy ridge of his palate, soon getting into a nice rhythm. He lathered him up with every calculated movement of his mouth, allowing Gilbert to put his hands on his head again, but keeping his eyes fixed on the Prussian, keen on watching him climax. His wildest fantasy was seeing the light of day at last.

He felt his strong muscles flex and redoubled his efforts, maintaining the friction; Gilbert's voice above him was panting out curses while he inched closer to ecstasy with each tantalizing swallow. An erratic spasm mangled the rhythm of his pace, but Ludwig retrieved the speed, the pressure—milking his brother out for a release.

As an acutely strong wave of pleasure raced along his thighs Gilbert rubbed his thumb over the blond's temple in a warning.

Backing off was out of question.

Gilbert arched off shortly before the first spurts of creamy seed flooded Ludwig's mouth, a deep growl escaped his throat. The younger nation swallowed greedily and Gilbert kept on coming, sending the last bursts of essence jetting down the back of his throat before slumping down, short of breath. And while he enjoyed the aftermaths of his release, Ludwig made sure to lick up every last drop he had missed. His cheeks would glow a rich scarlet if he were to tell Gilbert just how much he enjoyed sucking him off.

He granted him an extra lick as a sweetener and withdrew with a little smack, leaning back on his heels to give a few careful pumps while he was still sensitive.

Ludwig then did something hitherto undreamed-of—he idled away the morning.

He sunk against Gilbert on a sofa where they lay with joined hands, and took a very spontaneous nap. The palace was crowded and bustling with activity, but they lounged the afternoon away, with no soul to disturb their peace. The bedroom was his for the duration, free for him to stay as long as he was keen on, and thus three whole days were spent in seclusion, without divulging a blessed thing about their affair.

Those few days were Ludwig's salvation.

This experience was at odds with what he was wont to; he was thrown into a world of surreal where every moment was terrifying bliss. The new setting allowed him to deal with his past errors, alleviate his grief, and return to a normal life. The quiet and the calm laved him in Gilbert's presence. Then again, it unbridled the unrestrained, unchecked lust that had troubled him before, and enjoyed the luxury of having Gilbert take him so often during their isolation.

The rasp of furniture against the bare floor was not lone in spoiling the peace and quiet of the room—so did the breathless gasps, shallow breathing, moans of want and pleasure.

He barked his elbows and palms on the table; he scraped his knees on the floor. Gilbert's speed was uncanny. In bed also. They united over and over, unleashing an onset, a never-ending cycle, of pure rapture, losing count of orgasms.

Sometimes rough, sometimes gentle. Sometimes a vicious tempo that left him pleasantly spent, sometimes a deliberately slow pace, teasing and tormenting him to the fullest. These vagary turns he welcomed. The zealous Prussian tossed him into new positions, often endeavoring to shift the younger blond on top—he was still owed a demonstration of Ludwig's secret visits. And as if he was trying to catch up with all the months he has lost, Gilbert began a rich, lavish attention to his body, his rough fingers lazy, teasing, crawling over his skin in the same ways Ludwig's have done before, at night. Whenever a touch ended, another followed.

Together they enjoyed a period of contentment and elation, tacitly aware that some took note of their absence.

Deeply absorbed in thought, Gilbert let his feet drift him along the familiar path toward his bedroom. He turned a corner and stopped in his tracks the very moment he sighted another nation in front of the double-doors. It seemed to him that Roderich was inspecting the two stout, armed guards with their muskets on the ready and their sabers glaring in the light of candles, unaware of his stare.

Gilbert sauntered on, a brief gleam of interest on his face.

Having understood that something between the two nations has happened, Roderich resolved to make his presence felt, and, perhaps, exert his influence on the latest developments.

Gilbert's interest began to dwindle with each step, and by the time he revealed his presence and approached the entrance, his desire for a scuffle with the Austrian has ceased to exist. Brushing past him he reached for the handles, but, baffled, Roderich tried to stop him.

"Ah, would you forgive me, today I travel incognito." The Prussian cut off, a roughish smirk sprouting on his lips. "How are you today?"

"Good enough, thank you, Gilbert. And you?" Roderich almost huffed in return, his conduct nothing but fine gestures—probably just for show.

"Radiant indeed, radiant." The platinum-blond informed with a joyful glitter in his eye, malice in his features. "I did not imagine the remotest possibility of your visiting my bedroom. What brings you here?"

"Where is he, Gilbert?" Roderich demanded with a towering rage.

"That's a rather delicate question… Ah! We did spend the whole day together. If that is what you're asking." Gilbert smiled into his face with derision. Roderich felt like he has suddenly been punched in the stomach.

"You are not keeping him locked, I assume." He harrumphed at Gilbert's mockery, his overweening gestures.

"Perish the thought!" Another smile flickered across Gilbert's face. "I would not think of such a thing."

"I suspected. But now I'm convinced."

"What is the motive behind your visit then?"

Both vied for superiority. One could triumph.

"To inquire about Ludwig's whereabouts." The Austrian retorted pithily.

"Quid pro quo."

At the supercilious rise of an eyebrow, Gilbert decided to elaborate on his ultimatum.

"What word is circling in the palace these days?" He began their bitter exchange.

Roderich paused to mull over his thoughts.

"Rumors are heard far and wide…"

"All malicious lies." The Prussian purred, his tone at conflict with the content of his message.

"Whether they are or not is not for me to determine." Roderich was completely gutted in ire. "I have come to liberate Ludwig of the dull routine."

Gilbert gave a chuckle, amused or sardonic—it was hard to tell, possibly both.

"Wherein did I misspeak myself? Ludwig. Is. Here. Willingly." He stressed word after word, entertained by Roderich's obvious effort to uphold his usual poise.

"I bear him no ill will." He gritted out, perched up his glasses, and closed his eyes for a split second to shun Gilbert's jibe, "My hope is that he will change his mind. That he will leave this barricade of yours."

The Prussian guffawed.

"Barricade may be a rather grandiose term for this." Tired of his presence, Gilbert swerved, facing the doors, "You may visit. Later. But let it be seldom, and compelled by need." He turned the handles, "I doubt Ludwig will be up to persuasion."

Having arrived at a desperation point, Roderich nearly lunged at him, but the menacing glare of both guards cut him short, and Gilbert was already out of reach anyway.

"Hold it! Where are you going?"

Once more Gilbert turned to him.

"I have received enough information." He explained laconically before he could enter seriously into a discourse with the Austrian, his tone decided the outcome. He retreated and flung the door against the horrified Roderich who, appalled by his crude and open manner, abstained from venturing a second intrusion. A little recovered after this shock, he swept angrily out of the hall.

Gilbert knew he wouldn't dare show his face at his bedroom again.

The blaring slam startled Ludwig and he froze in his steps, staring at the Prussian.

Looking thoughtful, Gilbert shrugged his coat off and let the heavy fabric shirr onto the crooks of his elbows, the terse exchange between him and Roderich already forgotten. He looked up, saw Ludwig and snapped straight—petrified.

The younger German has been walking around the bedroom wearing Gilbert's robe as if it were nothing, openly offering himself on a silver platter. The plunging neckline nearly reached the loose knot of the silk sash, much too big for him, a paisley swirl of gold across the Prussian blue brocade hugging his body—nothing underneath. He was irresistible.

A beat of silence, then—

"G… Gilbert." Ludwig began, starting a slow retreat.

He saw a vulpine grin tug up a corner of Gilbert's mouth and felt a tingle in his skin, a breeze through his nerves.

The Prussian was leering at him, eying him like he was a gourmet meal, like a wolf watches his prey.

Ludwig took another step back, muttering a flimsy excuse, combing the room for an escape. Too late.

Gilbert advanced at a brisk pace, closing what little space was left between them. He pushed the blond against the wall and imprisoned his waist, caging him in, trapping him there to keep him from slipping away. Without much grace, he let his full weight slam into the younger German—a spear of desire shot straight through Ludwig's volatile young body.

"Why do you keep tantalizing me so?" Gilbert asked in a lush whisper, a gust of hot breath washed over Ludwig's neck, "Giving me a view you know I will enjoy…"

"I didn't—Y… you've caught me—"

Gilbert cut off his protest with a kiss.

"_Oh yes_, I've caught you."

Ludwig's member twitched to life at the words. Gilbert's appetite for sex was enormous.

Propelled by raw lust, Gilbert plunged a hand down, swatted away the sash, pushed the garment up around Ludwig's legs; the front of the robe fell open, revealing his chest and shoulders. A fresh batch of tremors ran through Ludwig's body and set his heart thumping, his mind settled there and then: he loved being pushed up against a wall by Gilbert. The Prussian went along a path south before he cupped him in his palm. Ludwig's eyes fluttered close—Gilbert has mastered him entirely. All resistance broke down under his own desire.

"Don't dress like this. Or you will be forced to hide for your own safety."

That was a risk Ludwig was willing to take.

"I would rather be in danger then." He retorted, his voice just above a whisper. Gilbert tipped his head up so they were eye-to-eye, sharing one breath. As soon as a finger of Gilbert's free hand made contact with his mouth, running the tip across his bottom lip, Ludwig's lust volcanically started up, leaving him dazed. The titillating touch continued down the line of his jaw, eliciting a favorable response from the blond.

Seizing the albino by the collar, Ludwig smashed their mouths together, need pouring off of him. He rocked his hips against Gilbert's, thrusting diligently until they were rutting like two animals, their breathing strained and heavy. He nabbed at Gilbert's vest and the Prussian stole another kiss, unable to keep his hands to himself. He slipped down to cup the back of Ludwig's thighs and kneaded the supple flesh, groaning.

"I want you against the wall." He demanded in a lascivious moan, cutting to the chase at last.

"The reins are in your hand." Ludwig panted, a hitch in his breath, "I'm in your power, brother. Rule me as you wish." His voice barely a whisper now.

Inflamed with passion, the albino made a quick work of lifting him up.

His legs were nudged apart and he was only too happy to oblige, unresistingly spreading them, and allowing the bathrobe to fall off entirely. Rough hands of a knight and unspoiled warrior grasped his thighs and scooped him up, a growl completely primal, completely sexual, rose from Gilbert's throat when he pressed himself close against the blond, holding him up against the wall in this novel position. Clasping tight at the nape of Gilbert's neck, Ludwig locked his legs around his waist and arched into him, maintaining the center of his gravity close to his brother.

"_Lubricant_?"

"_Bed_." Ludwig breathed against his skin, mouth on Gilbert's bare shoulders, hands now fisted in the fine fabric of his shirt. Showing off his strength and dominating expertise, the Prussian carried him off toward the bed with ease. One more kiss and Ludwig glimpsed over his shoulder, blue eyes roamed around the bed. Once he spotted the jar he untangled his arms from Gilbert and leaned back toward the bed in a long arch, pushing his upper weight off the mattress with the right hand, the other one rustled through the quilts. Gilbert held firm.

"You're going to hurt your back—"

"Nonsense."

A cover slipped off with a soft swish as Ludwig rolled up, coming back up for another kiss, the jar in his possession. Once he was crushed into the wall again he settled himself against Gilbert's frame and pushed his legs up around him; Gilbert grasped him more tightly and slid his mouth over the white throat, groaning against his skin.

They worked in tandem. Ludwig's hand dipped between their bodies to bare Gilbert's cock and lather his straining shaft. Wedged between two supple mounds, Gilbert found the curve of his brother's taut bottom and spread him, waiting for Ludwig to guide him in. Breathless, Ludwig aligned himself with Gilbert's erection and seated himself, a moan of momentary joy escaped him. Gilbert greedily watched his face to follow his response to penetration. Relaxed, and not expecting pain, Ludwig allowed him to go to the hilt. He fitted inside seamlessly. The blond gyrated his hips, thrust them up, melting into a heap of hot mess. Gilbert went deeper, _deeper_, filling him, blinding him, adept with bringing him to oblivion.

Ludwig hooked his arms under his brother's strong shoulders and spread both palms on the planes of his back, feeling his muscles flex and work, waiting for Gilbert to go faster, to plow him thoroughly, to love him against the wall with no scruples.

Gilbert grabbed his bottom, pulled him up and down on his shaft—pace and depth all in his control—hammering him like a piston, and his body responded with animated enthusiasm, receiving him readily.

He closed his eyes against the assault of pleasure while Gilbert pounded his tender prostrate, his name the only word within his verbal capacity. Gilbert's breath was hot in his ear, his thrusts undying. His fingers clawed over the sheen of sweat on Gilbert's skin, his breathing quick and small, mouth agape. He lost himself to the overwhelming flood of bliss and let the heat build up to a climax—a flash of light exploded behind his eyelids, an orgasm shot through him, fierce like a bolt. While he rode out the aftershocks the same warm tingling surged over the Prussian and his body entered into spasmodic thrusts, straining to obtain every last bit of pleasure before it faded into numbness.

Their bodies still joined and tightly clasped together, Ludwig put his hands around Gilbert's neck to draw him close, their kiss a slow, lazy game of tongues.

His hold slack and shoulders drooping, Gilbert relaxed his overused muscles, and blew a heartfelt sigh over the blond's neck. Ludwig sagged against him, his mind floating on a gentle current, no thoughts disturbing the pleasures of his afterglow, no need to think.

"Perhaps it would be more convenient to stay naked while within the walls of this room… It would spare me the trouble of having to take off your clothes each and every time."

Well-kissed lips curved into a smile.

**- The End -**

**A/N: This is my last story for now. My beloved Germancest is dying out, and it's breaking my heart.**

**I have a draft of almost 100 pages for a serious, romantic Germancest story set in a modern military camp, but I don't know if I will ever get down to writing it. In any case, thank you all for the support and reading, you're awesome, guys.**


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